


Enemy Lines

by J_Q, stars_fall_on



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Enemies to Lovers, Intoxication, Lawyer!Ian, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor character suicide, Non-Graphic Violence, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, Texting, emojis :), slllllllow burn, social justice warrior!Mickey
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-12 11:13:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29758767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/J_Q/pseuds/J_Q, https://archiveofourown.org/users/stars_fall_on/pseuds/stars_fall_on
Summary: Enemy lines (idiom): the territory controlled by the enemyIn this slow burn, enemies to lovers story, a social justice warrior and a lawyer go head to head and learn that sometimes your worst enemy is your past and the control it has over your heart.According to Mickey Milkovich, the last thing he ever wanted to become was a goddamn social justice warrior, but life had other plans for him. When the authors asked what he thought about this fic, Mickey replied: Who the fuck are you callin’ a social justice warrior? Imma protest the shit outta this story. #ProtestMyAss #FightFor15 #DefundThePigs #FuckULookingAt #🖕According to Ian Gallagher, the only thing he ever wanted to become was a social justice warrior, but life had other plans for him as well. When Ian was asked about the fic, he said: Holy fuck, is Mickey here? You tell him that I’m gonna sue his ass in every court in the land, including but not limited to, the Supreme fucking Court!Posting schedule: Sunday, Tuesday, Thursday
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 183
Kudos: 123





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to our awesome friend @Nicrenkel for beta-ing this beast (lol) and @liza1510 for translating it for the Russian fandom. And a huge shoutout to the talented artist of the poster, Katerina. Check out all her work on Instagram @x.c_nord.x
> 
> You can find the Russian edition here:  
> https://ficbook.net/readfic/10475813

__

_[Art by Nord](https://instagram.com/x.c_nord.x?igshid=11b1kdtw7fdrs)_

_Monday, July 5th, 2021_

Carl (12:24pm): u figure out the thing with the streetlights, yet?

Ian (12:35pm): I’m working, carl

Carl (12:36pm): better work on that!

Ian (12:36pm): jesus, I said I'll help u, didn't I?!

Carl (12:36pm): ***Calling***

*

**Global Beauty, Chicago**

With his cell phone tucked between his ear and shoulder, Ian eyed the stacks of manila folders on his desk, wondering idly if they somehow multiplied as soon as he turned his back because he swore he’d made a goddamn dent in the piles yesterday.

“Are you distracted again, Ian?” Carl complained into his ear. “You said you’d help, man.”

“Sorry, _I’m listening_. I’m listening.” But he didn’t take his eyes off the folders, even giving them a menacing glare. “Streetlights, I got it.”

“Yes, this shit is fucked, dude. I can’t get that old lady’s smile outta my head.”

Ian twisted in his chair to face the perfect view of Chicago’s skyline then took the phone in his hand so his shoulder could relax. “I’m sorry, Carl. I’ve been distracted, you’re right. Should’ve been there for you.”

“Yeah, yeah, you got your bullshit job to do, but that’s why I keep calling. Can’t you use your bullshit job to do something about all the burned-out lights in the neighborhood?”

“What do you think I do? Street maintenance,” he teased then regretted it because he didn’t want his little brother to think he didn’t care that he’d witnessed a woman’s death. “Sorry.”

“Stop saying you’re sorry and help me fix the lights!” Carl’s voice rose at the end and Ian blinked in surprise, forgetting the folders as he returned his attention to his desk and the laptop open on top of it.

“Okay, kid, relax. Let me see what I can find out, okay?” Ian stared at the Google search bar on his laptop screen wondering where the fuck you start when you want to get light bulbs changed. _How many lawyers does it take to change a lightbulb?_ he chuckled to himself. Apparently more than one since working for a year as in-house counsel for a major beauty industry corporation was no help.

“That’s what you said last week, Ian. You gonna bullshit me again?”

“Jesus Christ, Carl. I should send you a picture of my fucking desk. Can’t see it for all the work I got to do, so cut me some slack.”

“Why the fuck do you work there if you aren’t doing shit to help anyone?” Carl accused. “All you ever talked about was making a difference in the community you used to live in. Well, I’ve got a _community_ problem that needs fixed and you’re too busy giving chicks boob jobs.”

Ian snorted. “Uh, I’ve never touched a pair of tits in my life. Why you complaining about chicks getting breast enhancements anyway?”

“No chicks I know get that done. Costs an arm and a leg.”

“Or an arm and a tit?”

“Lame, even for you, bro.”

“I’m just trying to lighten the mood.”

“I’d rather you lighten the fucking street corner.”

“Now who’s lame?”

“Shut up and help!”

He typed a string of words into his laptop, getting over a million hits immediately. “You call Chicago 311 service center and report the problem?” he read from the screen.

“You kidding me?” Carl growled. “You go to university for a hundred years to learn how to google shit? We got Google on the South Side, Ian. It's not just a North Side thing.”

Without warning, his office door opened and his paralegal Myah entered, looking as efficient as ever but slightly more frazzled than usual. She strode straight to his desk and laid another goddamn manila folder in the center of all the piles, the deep red color signaling an emergency and Ian sighed.

“As I said a _hundred_ times, Carl, streetlight outages were not covered in Introduction to American Law.”

Myah held out her hand and Ian passed her the phone. “Contact Petra Kurtanjek at the Better Government Association. Tell her I sent you.”

She handed the phone back to Ian, and before he could push it against his ear, he heard Carl hyperventilating. “Was that Myah?” he asked. “Did she know it was me on the phone? Ian? Does she ever talk about me?”

“Let me know if that contact works out for you, Carl. Talk soon!”

Ending the call, he smiled a thank you at the woman who’d had his back since he’d started and prepared himself for whatever she’d come in here to tell him, which he could only assume had nothing to do with the year long crush Carl had on the woman. Not that Ian could blame him. If he were straight, he might find himself distracted by the dark eyes enhanced by thick rimmed glasses, sleek shoulder length black hair and perfect skin he saw so commonly on Asian women. While she had access to Global Beauty’s products and services at a reduced rate, she clearly didn’t need to take advantage of them.

Honestly, since joining Global Beauty’s legal team, he was way more interested in her sharp brain and get shit done attitude, and the fact that she’d saved his ass on more occasions that he could remember despite being younger than his own 26 years.

“Situation,” she said, flipping open the file she’d dumped on his desk.

Ian leaned toward the open folder and the photo of an older, tenement style building with a red brick front and fire escape that was probably one complaint away from being condemned.

“This is one of the buildings we’re tearing down for the new spa, right?” he asked, thinking about all the documents that had crossed his desk regarding their new cosmetic surgery office and holistic health spa.

“Correct. Demolition is scheduled for eight days from now.” To prove this point, she started flipping through the documents in the file. “Here’s the building survey, blueprint examination, site preparation. Crews are scheduled to remove non-bearing loads and--”

“Okay, I get it.” Ian held up his hand. Next thing she’d start telling him about the goddamn streetlights. “What’s the issue requiring legal counsel?”

“Protesters.”

“What are they protesting?”

She stared at him, thick eyelashes steady as she tried not to roll her eyes. “The demolition.”

“Obviously,” he said. “ _Why_ are they protesting it? The place looks like it might fall down on its own. It’s not a historical site is it?”

“No, it does not classify as a landmark, architectural icon or anything of cultural significance.” She flipped to the document that verified this and he waited for her to explain. “It is apparently still in use though, and that is their main grounds for protesting its demolition.”

“Well, that does seem like a legit reason to not want it torn down. Who is going to be displaced when it comes down?”

She inhaled deeply and nudged her glasses back into place, which Ian had come to recognize as what she did when she was trying to put together a plan to override Ian’s resistance. He looked down at the photo again, but it looked like a typical multi family dwelling built in the 1940s or so. The address on the Building Survey caught his attention. 8619 Garfield Street.

“Back of the Yards.”

“Yes, it’s not too far from your family home, in fact.”

“Oh.” Finally understanding what concerned Myah, he picked up the photo, squinting at the building’s crumbling facade and wondering if he’d ever walked along this street growing up. “Who lives there?”

“No one _lives_ there but”--and she sighed again--“it’s being used as a location for The Milky Way Youth Drop-in Center.”

Ian dropped the photo to his desk, feeling the niggling of doubt creep over his skin again. He’d felt it enough since joining the company last summer that he was familiar with the sensation. However, he’d never been able to pinpoint any specific issues and he really respected the CEO, Garrett Hyatt, so there had to be something more to this story. Surely, Garrett had put some contingency in place to protect these teenagers.

“But no one lives there?” he repeated.

“No, it’s basically a common area where youth congregate to eat, receive informal counseling, practice basic hygiene. That kind of thing.”

Pushing to his feet, Ian paced over to the floor length window and peered down the 21 stories to the buzz of activity in downtown Chicago. He scanned the buildings, noting that they were all shiny glass and sleek metal. Not a rundown tenement in sight.

“So I’m being sent to stop the protesters, make sure these homeless youth lose their center, and maintain Global Beauty’s reputation?” He watched all the tiny people rushing around and wondered if this was why he’d studied so hard for six years.

“Yes, it is all above board as you’ll find in the remaining documents I’ve put together for you,” she said sternly. “Their lease ran out three months ago. At which time, the owner served them with a Notice of Non-renewal, alerting the tenant that they needed to vacate before July 1 when we took possession. However, they did not leave and have been served a second notice that steps would be taken after noon today.”

Ian glanced at his watch as he returned to stand at his desk. “It’s only 1:15. Are we sure they aren’t out yet?”

“We are, and the problem is now Code Red.” To emphasize this, she pointed a manicured fingernail at the bright file folder. “We’re dealing with Gay Jesus.”

“Who?” Ian chuckled despite the low level headache forming in his skull as well as a vague sense of familiarity that alluded him at the moment.

Myah flipped to the next printout in the file, holding it out for Ian. “Him.”

Accepting it, he scanned the bullet point list and felt a little overwhelmed by the guy’s resume. A few dozen protests spanning the last five or so years, each one a public demonstration against some sort of political or social agenda and by the looks of Myah’s notes, they bordered on civil disobedience and often resulted in arrest.

“Shit, he’s one of those rabid activists. I can’t even tell from this rap sheet what he actually cares about.” Ian tossed the sheet back to the file folder. “Looks more like he cares about sticking it to _the man_.”

Myah nodded, giving her fitted suit jacket a tug. “Exactly.”

“Ugh,” Ian flopped down to his chair. “When’d I become the man?”

Coming around to his side of the desk, Myah handed him the thick folder. “The day you got accepted to law school. Now get up, suck it up, and show this loudmouth who’s the man.”

“Jesus,” he moaned again. “Speaking of, any idea why he’s called that?”

She shrugged. “I just got the assignment twenty minutes ago, so I haven’t had a chance to do a full background on him. Didn’t even manage to track down his actual name. But I’m going to go out on a limb and say he’s gay and he’s leading his people to the promised land.”

Ian waved her out of his way as he stood up. “That’s why you’re the brains in this partnership.”

“As well as the beauty.” When the bright red folder was safely in his hands, she smiled. “Which makes you the brawn.”

He shook his head but dutifully exited his office to do his company’s dirty work. “I guess I’m off to crack some skulls.”

*

**Garfield Street, Chicago**

Pulling the BMW 840d coupe to the curb between a white van and a station wagon that quite possibly housed a family of four based on the amount of shit piled inside, Ian squinted at the small group of people gathered half a block north of his parking spot. He’d cranked the car's air conditioning because the city was soaked in mid summer sunshine and Ian might be wearing a wrinkle resistant dress shirt, but he was still dressed for the office not a walk down one of the South Side’s seedier streets.

He glanced at his leather work bag in the back seat but decided against popping an Ativan to control his anxiety since he’d been pretty stable recently. In fact, it had been over a year since something had knocked him on his ass. Draping his suit jacket over the passenger’s seat, he pocketed his phone and keys then rolled up his sleeves, hoping he’d come off as casual and not like a lawyer with an agenda to shut things down.

 _Even though that’s exactly what you are_ , his conscience reminded him, and he reminded his conscience that the building had been sold fairly to Global Beauty and that they were within their legal rights to tear it down. Apparently, he had a file folder in the backseat bulging with all the documentation he’d ever need to _legally_ support his position.

A layer of sweat formed along his spine before he could click the door lock on his key fob, the bleep bleep echoing loud enough to rouse a homeless dude sleeping next to a quaint little hair salon that looked almost out of place in the neighborhood. Two wrought iron tables and chairs were lined up next to the oversized front window. Several colorful potted plants hung from the black awning, with the name in bold red font.

Live or Dye Salon. Ladies. Men. Well-behaved kids.

Tucking the idea that he needed a trim into the back of his mind, he swiped a hand over his already heated neck, eyes now on the old tenement building across the street and the dozen people milling around out front. Half of them looked too young to vote, and sweat pooled under Ian’s arms as well. They were holding signs, with various statements like “Stop the Capitalist Pigs” and “This is Our Only Home" but Ian’s attention caught on the four people standing on the front step of the building entrance.

An overdressed woman held a microphone and the man behind her held an oversized camera with WTTW emblazoned on the side.

“Shit,” he groaned. Local news was here already. Probably because Gay Jesus and his latest crusade made good fucking television.

Across from the news anchor was another woman with long auburn curls, her tattooed arms crossed over her chest and beside her stood a dark haired man who was being interviewed. Ian figured that either made him the youth center’s director or Gay Jesus himself.

Ian crossed toward them, stuffing his hands in his pockets and pretended to casually stroll by. He needed to get the lay of the land without catching the attention of the camera or the microphone, knowing the reporter would love to get a statement from Global Beauty about how heartless they were to evict all these teens.

Speaking into the microphone, the middle aged black newswoman smiled. “According to the law, you are now trespassing.”

“Don’t fucking care,” the dark haired man said, voice carrying halfway up he street and alerting Ian to the fact that this definitely wasn’t the center’s director, but also sending a ripple down Ian’s damp spine. “Just a piece of fucking paper, far as I'm concerned.”

Despite the profanity, the reporter perked up as she sensed a story. “Will you be organizing another lie-in?”

The cameraman turned toward the protesters, who were currently still on their feet, and Ian quickly scanned his mind for a solution in case they all started laying down on the dirty sidewalk.

“Not yet,” Gay Jesus said turning toward the street where Ian now stood. “Waitin’ for some bitch in a suit to show up first.”

Ian’s mouth went dry and he almost tripped over a crack in the sidewalk when he saw a face he’d never expected to see again.

“ _Holy fuck_ ,” he breathed. “ _Mickey?_ ”


	2. Chapter 2

_Monday, July 5th, 2021_

Sandy (2:13pm): just got off the phone with mandy, she’s gonna call u in prob 3 seconds

Mickey (2:13pm): tf did i do?

Sandy (2:13pm): don’t think anything, but one of the stylists did something to piss her off

Mickey (2:14pm): what else is new

Sandy (2:14pm): news camera there yet?

Mickey (2:14pm): don’t look like it

Sandy (2:15pm): k be right there

*

**The Milky Way Youth Drop-in Center, Chicago**

“Gimme that Sharpie.”

Mickey held out his hand to Izzy, distracted like usual by the teen’s facial piercings. He wanted to ask how many nose rings she considered too many, but as a glorified babysitter to a bunch of the South Sides bastards, he kept his thoughts to himself. Ever since Sandy decided the only solution to the petty crime problem in their neighborhood was to help integrate the teens into society, his days were filled with teenage drama and the occasional deadbeat father beatdown.

“Black or red?” she asked, holding the felt pens out to him.

“Yeah, both.” He figured he could add a little red to his artwork so it stood out better. If he was going to spend the foreseeable future standing in front of this building with the summer sun scalding him, then he might as well make sure every asshole who passed by could read his goddamn sign.

Flicking open the lid on the black pen, he bent over the large poster board laying on the front steps leading up to the five story building. Just as he was putting the finishing touches on the design, his cell phone rang just like Sandy said it would. He considered ignoring it, but the pain in the ass would just continue to call, so he tapped his phone screen.

“What?”

“Cheyenne is skimming from the till, Mickey!”

“Told ya so.”

“No you didn’t,” his sister snapped in his ear. “All you said was she’s South Side trash.”

“Exactly.”

“Well, we’re South Side trash too.”

Wondering if he was going to end up with a sunburn on his neck and bare arms, he stood up straight, eyes still on his handiwork as he tossed the felt pens back into the art supply box sitting next to his megaphone. “Which is why I could see her ripping us off from a mile away.”

“So why’d we hire her?” she continued to snap and Mickey yearned for the feel of a stick of tobacco between his lips but he was trying to set a good fucking example.

“You said she was a wizard with texturizing shears or some shit.”

“She’s not _that_ good,” Mandy sighed, and he imagined her pacing in her tiny office in the back of the hair salon, irritation growing and threatening to overflow. If he didn’t handle this, she’d probably hang Cheyenne’s severed head from the shop awning between the stupid ass flowerpots she insisted on cluttering the street with. “Well, what are you going to do about it, Mickey?”

“How much we talkin’?”

“At least a grand.”

He whistled. “I’ll talk to her.”

“When?”

“How many places you think I can be at once?”

“Fine!”

“Just don’t give shit away before I talk to her or she’ll bolt.”

“And go where?”

“She never shuts up about a dude she met online who lives in fucking Naperville.”

Mandy released a puff of breath, straight into Mickey’s ear. “Good thinking and thanks.”

Pulling the phone away, he stared at it to make sure it really was his high strung sister on the other line showing him appreciation. “Okay…”

“I don’t see the news van yet,” she said.

He squinted in the direction of the salon, sure that she’d moved to the front of the shop to watch the street, but he wasn’t able to see inside so he held his handmade sign up. She chuckled.

“Clever.”

“So far it’s just me, Sandy and the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Pretty fucking quiet actually.” He scanned the street, but only saw the usual businesses. Live or Dye. The boarded up dry cleaners next door to the youth center, Almuflihi’s convenience store, the Asian restaurant, used bookstore, Kelly’s Tavern and several older style apartment buildings.

Glancing up, he peered at the oversized windows above the hair salon where he finally had his own damn apartment, then his eyes moved further up to the windows above his where his sister and cousin lived.

“Oh,” she hummed into his ear. “I think that’s the news van. Just pulling up in front of the shop.”

“Guess that’s my cue.” He hung up, stuffing his phone into the pocket of his jeans and rested the wooden handle of his sign against his shoulder, intending to join the dozen other demonstrators.

They were a motley crew and weren’t likely to inspire fear in a corporation the size of Global Beauty, but that’s why Mickey was here. Inspiring fear in assholes was his specialty, whether it was corporate America or douchebag America, anyone intent on using their power to fuck with regular people who were just minding their own damn business.

“Nice sign,” said Sandy.

She smiled at Mickey’s sign, and the whole lot of protesting teens stopped pacing to admire it. He’d filled in the “GENTRIFY THIS” in big, bold letters above the crude sketch of his middle finger complete with the tattooed “U”.

“I’m a class act, Sandy.”

The side door of a white van slid open, getting his attention, and a middle aged black woman jumped out. She was in a blouse and skirt with sensible pumps, hair shellacked in place, all of which screamed news anchor at a local station. As she made her way toward Mickey, a tall redhead exited the van with an oversized camera braced on his shoulder, and Mickey grit his teeth against the way his body responded. Every goddamn time.

“Paparazzi’s here,” Todd said. He was the one kid from the center who would probably notice Mickey’s sudden hot flash and wonder what was up, but Mickey would blame it on the summer sun before he’d ever admit it had anything to do with tall redheads.

Sometimes, the world chose to remind him that it was a shithole cluttered with dickheads and he’d been assigned the role of cleaning up all the shit. Another urge to light up hit him and he cursed his decision to hide his bad habits from the prying eyes around him, even if his lungs thanked him every fucking day.

“Mr. Milkovich?” the reporter asked, holding out a hand as she joined him on the steps. “Gayle Thompson. WTTW.”

Ignoring the hand, he nodded. “Welcome to my office.”

Mickey refused to look at the camera guy as they shuffled a little so he could get the best angle of the building.

“You are protesting the demolition of this building, is that correct?” she began, tipping the microphone toward his lips.

“Sure,” he paused to look directly into the camera lens, eyebrows raised for emphasis. “ _And_ the fostering of discriminatory behavior by people in power in a way that excludes low-income individuals and small business.”

“Oh,” she murmured obviously regrouping because she hadn’t expected Gay fucking Jesus to do more than shout obscenities and stir people up. He’d get there eventually, but you don’t put the fucking cart before the horse. After years of pushing against the system, he’d learned that sometimes you could get a soulless corporation to back the fuck off without pulling out the big guns.

“According to the law, you are now trespassing,” Gayle continued.

“Don’t fucking care,” he replied, and he didn’t. There was a good chance he’d be arrested for wrongfully loitering on Global Beauty property, but he’d met as many lawyers over the years who lived for getting him out of jail as he had lawyers who put him there. “Just a piece of fucking paper, far as I'm concerned.”

“Will you be organizing another lie-in?”

The cameraman shifted the camera toward the protesters, who were currently still on their feet, but definitely keen to fuck some shit up. He felt like a proud surrogate father.

“Not yet,” Mickey said and turned to face the street. “Waitin’ for some bitch in a suit to show up first.”

His eyes moved past his cousin and the faces of the teens lined up to watch his interview, until they landed on a new face. A sledgehammer smacked right into his chest, nearly stopping his heart. The rush of adrenaline left behind a wave of nausea and an overwhelming urge to freak the fuck out. Instead his body froze, arms and legs like lead.

“ _Mickey?_ ”

Shaking out of his trance, he tossed his sign at the news anchor and moved down the five steps to the sidewalk, feeling like his body and mind had separated the moment he’d laid eyes on Ian.

“Fuck are you doin’ here?” he asked even as his heart prepared for the answer he knew was coming.

As his body kept moving, heading straight for the redhead, Ian’s face underwent at least three stages of shock since their eyes met. By the time Mickey was close enough to touch him, the disbelief on Ian’s face had morphed into rage.

He punched Mickey in the face, knuckles ricocheting off his cheekbone with a thud that Mickey hadn’t been expecting, which in hindsight was foolish. Stretching his neck to absorb the pain radiating from his face, Mickey snarled.

“Nice to see you too.”

Ian’s lips parted as he took jagged breaths, eyes wild. Mickey could see sweat stains starting to form on the pits of his dress shirt and his gaze traveled a little lower because he didn’t have the fucking willpower to stop himself from devouring Ian’s body with his eyes. The way the shirt clung to chest and the way his dress pants were made to fit only him.

“Fuck you!” Ian shouted, taking a step forward, chest expanded in some sort of alpha male pose that Mickey was _not_ going to acknowledge he was responding to.

Instead, he narrowed his eyes, just as his palms smacked against the defined muscle of Ian’s chest. The shove wasn’t quite hard enough to stop Ian though. He pressed against the determined hands, and Mickey could feel not only the heat of his body but the thudding of his heart. And the pecs that required dedication at a gym.

As his fingers curled slightly in the smooth material of Ian’s dress shirt, Mickey willed his own body to ignore the heat. “What's your problem, man? Just calm the fuck down.”

"What's my--" Getting his face into Mickey’s personal space, Ian sneered. “ _You_ have no fucking right to tell me to calm down!”

Mickey shoved again, but harder and Ian took two steps backward, giving them some much needed space. Ian looked around, taking in all the people watching them and likely remembering the camera. The anger on his face dropped away and Mickey got a glimpse of something he feared ever seeing.

Hurt.

Biting his lip in frustration, Mickey whispered, “ _Ian_.”

“No. NO!” He took two more steps away. “I’ll see you in court because you’ve fucked with the wrong guy.”

As Ian continued to back away, a well of rage erupted in Mickey’s belly, a feeling so familiar it wasn’t really a surprise, but the irrational depth of emotion that accompanied it scared the hell out him.

“Game on, North Side,” he sneered.

Lifting both middle fingers and shoving them high in the air, Ian laughed meanly. “Sure thing, _Gay Jesus_.”

Then he turned away, jogging across the street toward that same fucking BMW.

“Traitor!” Mickey yelled but Ian had already slid into the driver’s seat. Mickey’s chest was so tight, he wanted to claw at it and he was afraid to look at his hands, knowing they were shaking with every goddamn emotion imaginable. And some he’d never even known existed until this moment.

The need to have the final fucking word burned inside him and he pushed past his cousin so he could grab his megaphone, then he stepped out into the street just as Ian pulled away from the curb.

“TRAITOR!” Mickey yelled into the speaker.

Ian gave him the finger one more time as the sleek black car sped past.

“HOLY FUCKING HELL!” Mandy shouted from across the street, hands on her hips. Leather stylist pouch wrapped around her waist. “HOLY SHIT BALLS!”

They stared at each other as several cars passed between them, until Mickey turned away, bringing the megaphone back to his lips. He had no idea if Ian would hear him, but he felt a tantrum coming on and yelling shit seemed the best option.

" _Demolish poverty not teens!_ ”

A resounding cheer went up behind him, and he sucked in an angry breath.

" _We give fucking animals a shelter, why not homeless kids?_ "

Not getting the relief his body craved, he dropped the speaker to his side and turned to the assortment of people watching him.

“One of you punks got a smoke?”

“I _knew_ you still smoked!” Todd said gleefully, not quite reading the room at the moment.

“Mick,” Sandy said, grabbing the pack out of Todd’s hand and handing it to Mickey, while he touched his burning cheek with palms still tingling from where they’d touched Ian. After six fucking years.

Somehow his smoke got lit and he inhaled. The nicotine did its work immediately, while he tried to process what just happened and come to terms with all the eyes watching him like a freak show at a carnival.

“That was wild.”

He glared at the chick with the face full of piercings then at the reporter who stood a few feet away, eyes wide with disbelief even as Sandy tried to distract her.

A wave of pinkish blonde hair swung into his line of sight and he blinked out of his daze as his sister came into focus. “Okay, back the hell up everyone,” Mandy screeched, hands flapping like wings. “Nothing to see here.”

“I’m getting a goddamn drink,” Mickey snapped and Mandy nodded before ushering several teens toward the reporter, probably intending to throw a few sob stories at her to distract from the juicy story he and Ian had just provided the entire neighborhood.

He walked away from the protest and the building and the camera and his sister’s voice demanding to know what they planned to do with the footage. After all the shit people had captured of him and uploaded to YouTube, today’s spectacle would likely be top of his dedicated viewers’ lists.

Yanking open the door to Kelly’s Tavern, he welcomed the dark, dank atmosphere, the anonymity of it all. He imagined that it wouldn’t be too long before he was passed out on the bartop like the old guy he sat down next to.

“Wha’s up?” Louis slurred, eyes barely open, breath nearly knocking Mickey off his bar stool.

“The son of a bitch in a suit showed up,” Mickey replied, tapping the bar and getting a sympathetic nod from Louis, who probably didn’t even own a suit. “Couple tequilas.”

Kelly nodded as he grabbed two shot glasses from the tray in front of him, and Mickey eyed the old drunk again.

“Make it three,” he said and the bartender flipped a third glass over.

"You need some ice for that shiner, Mick?" Kelly peered closely at Mickey's cheek, which was feeling tight as the swelling began. "Seen you with worse over the years though. Who’d you piss off this time?"

Shrugging, Mickey pictured Ian's face, the way it had flushed with anger, bringing out each one of his freckles. "I deserved it but now we're even."

After sliding one of the tequila shots to the old timer, Mickey tossed the other two back in quick succession, ignoring the lemon that Kelly offered him and turning to his ancient drinking buddy.

“You ever been in love, Louis?”


	3. Chapter 3

**6 years earlier**

_Tuesday, November 29th, 2015_

Jase (9:03pm): ian where the fuck r u? 🤨

Tommy (9:03pm): we're losing at beer pong, man 😱🍻🔴

Ian (9:04pm): sounds like a national emergency

Ian (9:04pm): I'm just about there

*

**Alpha Delta Phi house, University of Chicago**

Ian wasn't in the mood for a party even though he climbed the half dozen stone steps into Alpha Delta Phi house for the end of semester celebration. The old wooden door was propped open allowing the electronic whine of some party pop to escape onto the quiet college street, possibly enticing students to join but mostly just adding to Ian’s exhaustion.

Stepping through the fraternity’s doorway, he was met with overly excited student voices. He almost headed back out the door to his dorm room to crash since the last few months of studying and worrying that he was in over his head had caught up with him. But he knew Jase and Tommy would keep texting him until he agreed to get drunk in preparation for the upcoming final exams.

Across the room, Tommy was lining up red solo cups in a triangle formation for the usual game of beer pong. The familiar sight almost made him smile, but he took a hard left before his buddies could spot him and slipped past a couple of drunk girls crying in a corner so he could escape to the kitchen and avoid getting roped into playing without some booze to loosen him up first. Somehow he’d gotten a reputation as the Beer Pong King of a UChicago fraternity he wasn’t even a member of.

The kitchen table was loaded with plastic buckets of jungle juice, so Ian filled a solo cup with the dark red concoction of god knows what. He looked down at the shriveled orange chunk floating at the top of his cup then took a sip. It hit his tongue and sent a shiver down his spine at the potency. If he had too many of these, he’d be too fucked up to study for the stats final he had tomorrow afternoon.

As much as he enjoyed socializing with the guys he’d met over the last year and a half, he needed his grade point average to be near perfect because he didn’t have family money supporting him. Becoming a lawyer was a long, complicated, expensive journey for a 19 year old kid from the South Side of Chicago, who had pretty limited ways to make enough money to pay for school while supporting himself and helping his family.

To make ends meet, he’d skipped over selling weed and instead used the knowledge that people liked to look at his body and that they were willing to pay for the privilege. He’d taken advantage of their desire and made enough from dancing and modeling to supplement the scholarship he’d received.

Feeling his phone buzz in his pocket, he moved to a corner of the kitchen, fully expecting to see more nagging texts from his two friends, who did _not_ know how to take no for an answer. Instead, he found a frustrated message from his brother reminding Ian why he needed to do well in school.

Lip (9:15pm): fucking power got turned off because fucking frank stole the squirrel fund. I told Fi to find a new spot but she didn’t fucking listen, like usual. we had to borrow from Liam’s medical fund. fuck

Chugging the contents of his plastic cup, Ian felt the familiar anger and the fucking injustice that had fueled him since he was a teenager. That childhood helplessness he now wanted to turn into a career where he could right some goddamn wrongs.

Figuring he’d pick up an extra shift at the Fairy Tail once he finished his last exam, he opened his bank app and did a quick $200 e-transfer to Lip.

Ian (9:18pm): transferred 200. that enough?

Lip (9:18pm): thanks man.

Ian (9:19pm): how’d liam’s visual motor test go today?

Lip (9:21pm): inconclusive

Ian (9:21pm): be home this weekend

"Here he _iiiiis_ ," Jason lilted in his ear, one arm hooked around Ian’s neck to pull him closer. "Man of the year!"

It evoked a soft chuckle out of Ian’s throat, while he tried to get out of the guy’s tight grip and run his hands over his short cropped red hair.

"Fuck off," he retorted, unable to stop his cheeks from flushing, while the All American looking blond reached a hand out to ruffle the hair Ian had just fixed. He grinned at Ian but relented tormenting him.

“Pretty boy.”

“Asshole,” Ian muttered with a laugh, but the guy’s smile was like catnip that Ian could never resist. “Who’s the real pretty boy here, huh?”

Jase continued to smile, knowing full well that his carefree attitude was infectious. “I’m too modest to answer that question.”

“Mhm, modest is definitely a word I’d use to describe you.”

"I’m not letting you get all shy after scoring the winning goal today," Jason continued, voice carrying to the other occupants of the kitchen who’d followed Jason in, "AND saving Tommy and me from fucking up that goddamn English final. We gotta show our appreciation. That’s how it works, Gallagher."

He soaked up the compliment for his dry soul. It might have only been a soccer game where students challenge their professors as a semester end farewell, but the students took it seriously. Probably enjoyed the chance to get back at the hard-ass profs after a tough semester.

When the redhead remained silent, Jason’s pale blue eyes shone beneath wiggling blond brows. “You know I'd totally fuck you if I were gay, right? Really show you my appreciation," he teased, clearly enjoying the familiar juvenile banter and Ian’s response to it.

"That'd be really"--he took a big gulp of the lukewarm booze while searching for the right word--"disturbing considering you're a man whore and my best friend."

"Fuck, imagine how convenient that would be though.”

“I suppose if all I required in a sexual partner was convenience it would be great,” Ian laughed.

“What exactly do you look for?" Jason threw his arm around Ian once again, leaning in conspiratorially and dousing Ian with his beer breath.

“Well, being into guys is a good start.”

“No can do, bro,” Jase laughed when Ian shoved him lightly. "But I saw Chase Reyes five minutes ago and he meets all your requirements. Gay and definitely into more than just convenience where you’re concerned.”

“Hard no.”

Jase squinted slightly blurry eyes at Ian, blond curls falling over his forehead. “Why?”

Ian polished off his drink to give himself time to respond, since he wasn’t completely sure why -- other than he felt nothing for the guy. He wasn’t bad looking, just looked like half the fraternity with his longish crew cut and khakis. They’d met in one of Chase’s art classes, where Ian was doing his work study as a figure drawing model. He’d stood naked for over an hour, back turned to the students, face in profile, and apparently, Chase had developed a crush while drawing Ian’s ass. Several months and a dozen poses later, Ian wondered if the guy was ever going to get over it.

“Too complicated,” Ian ended up saying because he knew that would make sense to Jase.

“Gotcha. Let’s play some pong!”

"Sure, but I'm pretty beat. Gonna head back to the dorm soon so I can get up early to study."

"Not too soon, Gallagher. We’re losing to the Delta fucks. We neeeeeeed you,” he pleaded, topping up their cups with the bitter concoction. “Gotta help us kick their asses, man.”

Sometimes, when Ian looked around at the student body and into the eyes of other pre-law kids, he felt lost and missed the streets of Canaryville, where he was in many ways invisible. Nobody back home expected anything but financial help from him. They didn’t put their hopes in him or assume he was destined for greatness. The fact that he’d even made it this far was cause for amazement.

Jason’s pleas were cut off by shouting and cheering, and when they headed in that direction rather than toward the ping pong table, Ian checked his watch, deciding he’d head back to his dorm room in an hour.

In addition to studying for an exam that was going to kick his ass, he also had a shift after that at the campus Center for Identity and Inclusion. He’d started volunteering shortly after arriving, figuring it would not only support students who needed a community but he’d also be able to use the experience to help him with his undergraduate psychology degree.

“What the hell is going on?” Jason yelled into the group of people huddled around the living room entrance.

“Yo, Ian, Jase, get your asses over here and look at this shit!" Tommy called to them, an intoxicated smile on his flushed face, brown skin dotted with perspiration from the heat of a hundred bodies pressed into one small frat house. His hands waved excitedly at them, sending his shoulder length dreadlocks in every direction.

Jason pushed his way through the group with Ian trailing reluctantly behind to where the two drunk college girls he’d seen crying earlier were now going at it in a dramatic, albeit uncoordinated, battle. Between the face slaps and hair pulling, they were tugging at each other’s shirts and bras which was obviously the reason for Tommy's exhilarated cry.

Ian just rolled his eyes hard, while Jase chuckled from the front row. Taking a big gulp from his still full cup, Ian looked over the crowd of hypocrites. He hated the fact that he was part of a faction of students who already thought they were the next world leaders and saw themselves as better than the people like Ian, yet they stood around cheering on two emotional girls who’d had too much to drink.

That's why it was a pleasant surprise when his eyes settled on another girl with obvious rough edges, black hair tipped in a bright blue that matched eyes lined with enough dark liner to easily paint three faces. He recognized street smarts when he saw them, and she must have sensed something in him because she walked straight toward him, shoving a couple of football players out of her way.

"Hey gorgeous," she raised her brows and licked her lips, while making a circle around him like an animal caging its loot. "You, uh, wanna join a drinking game? We could pair up."

He smiled tiredly at her, but before he could answer, she continued.

"I think we'd be great together. You look like you could handle a few beers easily and you may not believe me but..." Her eyes trailed down his black tank top and the green button down he’d left open, landing on his crotch. Her lips quirked and he became aware of how tight his slim fit, dark blue jeans were. "I can handle _a lot_...of beers." She clicked her tongue for more emphasis, drawing a snort out of him.

"Actually, I _do_ believe you, but I'm pretty sure I'm not what you're looking for." He shrugged innocently, giving her a friendly smile since she was making a real effort to win him over, and there was just something about her cocky attitude that he liked.

She gave him another once over. "Yeah? You're pretty much what everyone's looking for."

"So you know I'm gay, right?"

"Only because you've never had me."

The redhead chuckled amused, the glib answer was a fresh relief to the monotonous ones that usually followed his coming out. Shit like, _oh that’s great, good for you_.

"Ian," he said, holding out a hand that was waved off instantly.

"Mandy." She jiggling her cup right in his face. "So? You in?"

"Nah, I'm probably not a great drinking companion tonight." As much as she seemed like a _platonic_ good time, he was not going to tempt his Gallagher genes, which lurked at every turn tempting him to fuck up. Shit, if his goddamn genius of a brother could flunk out of college then it wasn’t going to take much for Ian. “Got a final tomorrow.”

Mandy pouted, even going so far as to tap her foot in frustration. "Ugh, college boys are such pussies," she whined, her eyes narrowing dramatically. “I’ve got two exams tomorrow, but I find that a few drinks and a good lay help more than a night of anxiety induced cramming.”

“Hm, maybe you’re right.” He tipped the solo cup to his lips, taking a tiny sip because he knew that too much drinking tonight would _not_ help him tomorrow. The good lay, though, that had some potential.

"How ‘bout some weed then?” she suggested. “Maybe that’s what we need to get you in the mood to juggle some balls.”

He raised his brows.

“I’m talking about ping pong, you perv,” she laughed and Ian developed a little platonic crush like he tended to do when he met someone who had little control over their trashy impulses and mouth.

"Okay, yeah, I'm good with some weed." He tapped his solo cup against hers. “You got any?”

"No, but I know where we can get some." She smiled, twisting a finger in her long dark hair and drawing his attention to the colorful tips.

“Nice hair, by the way.”

She ran her fingers over the blue ends. “I’m a stylist.”

“And going to school?”

“Yup, business degree.” She ran a hand over Ian’s hair, mussing the top like Jase had done earlier. “Gonna take over the salon world one day.”

“I don’t doubt it,” he laughed.

"For now, I’m more interested in getting fucked up. Follow me."

After one quick glance over his shoulder at Jase and Tom who were now talking to the wrestling girls, he was actually looking forward to some mood enhancer.

He followed his new friend through the narrow corridors of the Gothic style two-story building, looking to his left and right at the photos of past fraternity founders and successful leaders plastered to the walls in gaudy gold and silver frames.

“You hoping to get your face up on these walls?” Mandy asked over her shoulder, looking mildly horrified at the idea.

“I was born on the wrong side of the tracks for that to ever happen.”

After one final sharp turn to the right, he almost bumped into a stalled Mandy. “I knew I liked you for a reason”

“Same.”

Smiling, she knocked three times on a wooden door before opening it to a separate room that reminded him of the living room of his family home with the mismatched furniture and old worn carpet.

"Yo, shithead, customer's here."


	4. Chapter 4

_Tuesday, November 29th, 2015_

Jase (10:26pm): ian? where r u? those chicks stopped scrapping. Pong time!

Tommy (10:27pm): we lost him agaimn? 👀

Jase (10:27pm): yeah do u see hjm?

Tommy (10:27pm): 👀

Tommy (10:28pm): no, im standing rght nxt 2 u

Jase (10:28pm): so stop txtng me 🤦🏼‍♂️

Tommy (10:28pm): u stop ✋🏿

Jase (10:28pm): 🙄

Jase (10:29pm): IAN HELP ME

\--------

**Alpha Delta Phi house, University of Chicago**

“Can you fill this prescription?”

Mickey looked at the slip of paper in the guy’s hand. It was covered in chicken scratch typical for what passed as doctor handwriting. “Do I look like a goddamn pharmacist, dude?”

Shooting the preppy idiot a warning glance, Mickey turned away. He might be at this party to provide a service to a bunch of drunk college nerds _and_ he might be strapped for cash, but he was still a goddamn professional. With fucking standards. Mandy was going to get an earful for convincing him to waste his precious time peddling his wares on this campus of dumbasses.

“It’s from my dad’s prescription pad,” the kid said quietly, big brown eyes boring into Mickey’s. “I forged it.”

Eyebrows raised in interest, Mickey returned his attention to his potential new business partner, who definitely hadn’t reached legal drinking age despite the beer bottle in his hand. “Why you telling me?”

The kid shrugged his Polo shirt clad shoulders, eyes nervous as they darted around the room. A dozen people sat or stood around chatting, but none of them appeared to give a shit what Mickey and this guy were up to. He’d already sold an eighth of weed and was planning to move onto a new room, just as soon as he got more info from daddy’s little angel.

“I can’t fill a bunch of prescriptions from my father. Too risky.” He ran a hand through his floppy light brown hair while avoiding Mickey’s direct stare. “Need a partner with, uh, street smarts.”

With that claim, Mickey gave him a once over, noting the Rolex on his wrist and the Nike running shoes that probably cost more than the South Side shithole he grew up in. Looked like the guy had a spending habit that surpassed whatever his old man gave him for allowance, and that required dipping his toe into Mickey’s world.

Returning his gaze to the kid’s eyes, he stared into them assessingly because he wasn’t getting involved with a tweaker. Drug addicts were too risky, but this guy looked like he spent summers at a country club not an opium den.

“How many ‘scripts you got?”

“Thirty.”

Nodding, Mickey’s mind went to work on a plan. “You also know how to fill this shit out? All that doctor mumbo jumbo?”

“I do.” He handed a couple slips to Mickey. “These are ready to go. One for Percocet and one for Oxy.”

“A’ight, _partner_ ,” he paused to close the distance between them until the guy could feel Mickey’s breath on his face even though Mickey had to tip his head up to see him.

“My n-name’s Chase.”

“Whatever you’re name is if you fuck with me, you’re a dead man. No prescription will be able to help you, got it?”

Gulping loud enough for Mickey to hear, he nodded.

Mickey stepped back, so he could swipe into the Notes app on his phone before passing it to the guy. “Put your contact info in there. Imma Facebook your ass first.”

“Uh, I don’t have Facebook.” He gulped again. “My dad uses it.”

“Put his name in there too. And whatever the fuck shit you do use. Insta-fucking-whatever.”

" _Yo, shithead, customer's here._ "

While Chase typed away, Mickey glanced at the doorway where his pain in the ass stood, hands on her hips like she was the fucking Queen of Sheba demanding the attention of her subjects. His gaze skittered past her expectant face to the face of the man behind her, and something electric zipped down Mickey’s spine when he locked eyes with the hot redhead.

\--------

Ian had no clue who Mandy was calling shithead, since there were at least a dozen people scattered around the room, but he got an idea very quickly when a stocky brunet man several inches shorter than him looked their way. He was met with intimidating black brows that rose high in response to Mandy’s announcement, then bright blue eyes met his and held.

They stared at each other long enough for some vital awareness to pass between them, a knowledge or understanding that went deeper in thirty seconds than any other connection he’d ever made. It was disconcerting and he was almost grateful when he heard his name being called.

“Ian!” Chase shoved a phone into the brunet’s hand and crossed the room quickly to Ian. “I’ve been looking for you all night!”

“Uh,” Ian mumbled. “Hi, Chase.”

A toothy smile spread over the guy’s youthful face as soon as he was in Ian’s personal space. “Did you”--he leaned in to whisper--“follow me in here?”

Mandy snorted, wedging her body between them. “He’s here with me, kid.”

“Oh, but you’re…” He let that thought drop when the brunet moved toward them. His faded jeans fit loosely, but it didn’t hide any of his confident swagger, and something familiar hit Ian like a ping in the chest and he couldn't shake off the feeling of being home in his neighborhood. It literally took his breath away for a few seconds during which he tried to scratch the words _love at first sight_ from his mind because he wasn’t a hopeless romantic.

“What are you still doin’ here?” The brunet waved a hand at Chase then toward the open door. “Shoo.”

Chase looked at the three of them, stalling on Ian with pleading eyes. “I’ll...be around.”

“See ya,” Ian smiled, knowing the unrequited crush he had on Ian was painful enough without forcing the guy to watch Ian drool over the brunet.

"How much?" he asked Ian once Chase was gone.

“Huh?” Ian responded showing off his brilliance and ensuring he made a great first impression.

But he really was confused. How much what? How much did he want to spend the evening staring at the guy? How much time did he want to waste before they got out of here? How much did Ian want to kiss those obscenely soft looking lips? The questions might have been endless but there was one answer to all of them. _Desperately_.

"Yo, man, you in there?" he barked. “You fuckin’ deaf or something?”

The rough voice not only sent a shiver down Ian’s spine, it also tore him out of his haze, and he knew he was not going to get this guy out of his head easily. _Shit_.

The man of his dreams switched his gaze to Mandy, who stood to Ian's right. "I'm not selling to someone who's already stoned. You know that shit, Mandy. Not being responsible for some trust fund dipshit OD’ing."

It finally clicked and Ian remembered why he’d followed Mandy in the first place. God, he obviously looked like a complete moron. "No, no! I'm good. All good," he tried to save the situation, finding Mandy's eyes staring holes in the side of his head. "I just - sorry. All good."

Fuck, suddenly, he couldn't even build a coherent sentence or string together more than two words despite winning the last division level debate held by the pre-law society. Maybe he could write a book on how to make a good first impression since he clearly knew what _not_ to do.

The following five seconds of silence, where two pairs of ice blue eyes and four knitted black brows observed him, were probably the most embarrassing ones he'd ever endured, and he had a few fucked up backstage memories from the Fairytale to compete with.

Mandy stepped in to buy him some extra time and maybe help him get a fucking grip. "Give us a couple grams."

" _Us?_ " Intimidating brows knitted in more confusion.

"Yeah, douchebag, _us_ ," Mandy clarified, obviously annoyed with the person Ian would describe as perfect.

"You smoking with the customers now? Fucking brilliant."

"I’m smoking with Ian.” She slid an arm around Ian’s waist, forcing him to lay his palm on her shoulder. “My _friend_."

"Oh." A halfhearted smile was tugging at the corner of the thick pink lips, before a thumb scratched it away. " _Ian_ , huh? Got a thing for Irish now?" The redhead had no idea what was going on. His mind was hanging on the knuckle tats that would undoubtedly keep their promise.

She held out her free hand. "Fuck off and give us the weed, Mickey."

 _Mickey_.

"Goddamn it, Mandy, how often do I gotta tell you that bangin' our clients is a bad fucking idea?"

Banging? Wait. _What_?

"Uh," Ian cleared his throat to finally jump into the conversation that was going on without him, when _Mickey_ turned his attention back to him.

"What's that, mumbles?"

"No bangin' going on here," he managed to say, while dislodging himself from Mandy’s grasp. His heart beat recklessly in his chest when their gazes locked again, giving him the feeling that they were writing the beginning of their history.

"Not yet, anyway," Mandy threw in.

"Not ever," Ian corrected her, trying to raise his own eyebrows in a way that would compete with the other two people in this conversation. All it got him was an amused chuckle out of his crush and ignored by Mandy.

“Who I screw is none of your goddamn business, Mickey, so stop being a bossy bitch and gimme the weed.”

"Gay!" Ian nearly shouted. He had literally no idea what had gotten into him to out his sexuality in front of a drug dealer with FUCK U-UP knuckle tats. Where he came from he should know better, should be more careful, but this _Mickey_ guy clearly threw him off.

He was hoping for any sign of mutuality written in his face, but all he got was a blank stare and crossed arms. As he watched the bare biceps flex, he hoped he wouldn't get his ass beaten now instead of getting the weed they were originally here for.

"Whatever," Mandy sighed, putting one hand on her hip, while holding the palm of the other out to her...partner? "Can we have the weed now that you’ve ruined any chance I had with this guy?"

Following a stretched-out moment, in which Mickey continued to deliberate his options and Ian continued to explore the skin exposed by the gray, sleeveless hoodie, Mickey bit his bottom lip and turned partially away. His left hand reached around to the back pocket of his Levi’s where he pulled out a baggie filled with the familiar green-brown substance.

Ian shifted his attention from the defined biceps to the shape of his ass. While it was definitely small in order to fit the man’s frame, it was also nicely rounded, filling out the seat of his jeans. Since the moment he’d become aware that he preferred guys, Ian knew he was an ass man. He liked all the other parts, but nothing compared to a perfectly shaped rear end.

Mandy’s quick movement beside him yanked his attention away from his inappropriate gawking. She snatched the baggie out of Mickey’s hand, immediately stuffed it into the lacey black bra poking out of her tank top and rounded on the brunet.

"Since you owe me a shit ton of cash from that last bad _investment_ ”--she punctuated the word with aggressive finger quotes--“investment and because you, Mickey, are a grumpy ass fucker tonight, pun definitely fucking intended, we're not giving you shit for it. Come on, _Ian_."

She pulled him in the direction of the door. It felt like a completely different Ian leaving than the one who existed prior to meeting _him_. As she shoved Ian into the hallway, he tried to think about the _pun intended_ thing Mandy had said and how the possibility of that lit a fire in his belly, but she slammed the door, ending Ian’s chances with Mickey. If he ever even had any.

"What just happened back there?" he asked as soon as they exited the hallway into the kitchen that was now full of drunk partiers, but no Jason or Tom, thank god. Mandy began filling their cups with jungle juice.

"Just my brother being a dick." She shrugged nonchalantly while handing him the refill and sipping hers. She nodded her approval. "As usual."

"Your brother?"

"Yeah."

And now Ian could see it. The same silky dark hair, the same pale skin tone, the same intimidating blue eyes and definitely the same South Side attitude. He’d known when he met her that she'd be his type if she were a guy, no wonder he'd fall for the male version so quickly.

"I could ask you the same thing, though," she countered, draining her cup and refilling it.

"Huh?"

"That's what I mean," she said, scrunching up her face while studying him. "You swallow your tongue or something? Going mute in there at the sight of shithead."

He felt his cheeks turning hot and knew they were colored in various shades of red. But he couldn't help himself, even just the thought of Mickey overwhelmed him. He'd never experienced this reaction to a guy before. Even though he wasn't naive enough to think something magical happened, he also couldn't deny that he felt an instant connection. Something more than just the fact that Mickey was probably the sexiest guy Ian had ever met.

And Mandy did hint that Mickey was gay, right? Ian's lovesick brain didn't make that shit up? He needed to know even if he might really get his ass handed to him.

"Ian? You often zone out like this?" She actually looked concerned with her hand on his forearm and her eyes softening.

"Uh sorry, gotta hit the bathroom. Be right back."

With quick steps -- he sometimes was thankful for his giraffe legs -- he made his way back down the corridor and up to the door that separated him from Mickey. Straightening his shoulders and taking one deep breath, he pushed the door open and found the brunet leaning against the wall in the back, talking to some other dude Ian hardly noticed the first time he’d been in the room.

Unsure of what to say, he tried to come up with a plan while walking hesitantly up to the two men. His approach got the attention of the other guy, and the brunet followed his gaze until he faced Ian.

"Mandy dump you already?"

"I, uh," he stammered, fishing for his wallet in the pocket of his dark jeans, eyes fixed on the bottom lip that Mickey rolled under his tongue then sucked into his mouth. He made a note to himself to put _suck on Mickey's bottom lip_ at the top of his bucket list. "I wanted to pay for the weed. Mandy's your sister, but I'm just a regular customer. So..." He grabbed two twenties and a ten, then held them out to Mickey, while the other guy moved away to give them privacy to finalize the deal.

With the tip of his tongue pressed into the inside of his cheek, Mickey seemed to ponder it before his hand reached forward for the money and in doing so touched Ian's palm briefly. It was the moment that changed Ian's life, or so he'd think later like the romantic he obviously was. The heady dose of lust in his veins confirmed for himself that he was going to actively pursue this guy because he needed him in his bed tonight, and for many, many nights after.

The craving was so strong that he knew he’d even settle for running his fingers through Mickey's jet black hair for hours while the smaller man slept peacefully on his chest. He even suspected that he’d be somewhat satisfied to simply sit and listen to him talk.

"That it?"

The rough voice so full of attitude brought him back to reality as did the realization that he needed to get a fucking grip if he was going to ever have a chance with Mickey. He needed to come up with some moves fast; otherwise, he'd be sent back to the party alone in about five seconds.

"You maybe wanna pair up for a drinking game?" He sent Mandy a telepathic apology for stealing her pick-up line and using it on her sibling with the same intentions she had of getting into Ian’s pants.

"Maybe I’m a lightweight. You willing to risk it?" His eyebrows shot back up, teeth pressing into soft flesh. Feeling the buzz of flirtation, he nearly dropped to knees in thank you.

“Maybe, it could get pretty competitive.”

“That a fact?” he scoffed. “Do I look like I can’t handle it?

Now or never, Ian decided.

He mirrored Mickey’s position, leaning a shoulder against the wall and running his gaze over the guy’s body then stopping to stare challengingly into his blue eyes.

"You look like you'd be able to"--he raised one cocky brow, while sending a plea to God to save him--"handle a lot."

The brunet's expression shifted from surprised to suspicious quickly but settled on amused and Ian’s shoulders relaxed.

"Yeah? You think you got something that I’d be interested in _handling_?" He clicked his tongue and stared at Ian, eyes moving down Ian’s body in a similar way, his little smile giving the impression that he liked what he saw.

"I've got a _lot_ you could be interested in, Mickey."

When the softest flush crept over Mickey’s pale cheeks, Ian felt sure that he had no idea how cute he actually was. Giving the occupants of the room a quick glance, Mickey sheepishly laid one hand on the back of his neck in a protective gesture, reminding Ian that they were out in the open where anyone could see and hear them. So he bit his tongue to allow Mickey to take the lead now.

"You're a cocky motherfucker," he snorted and Ian continued to wait even though he wanted to demand an answer. "A’ight. Let's go, Casanova," he finally said, getting Ian one step closer to his dream.

Resisting the urge to look over his shoulder to make sure Mickey was actually following, Ian made his way back to the main room where the party was raging. His earlier reluctance to join in the festivities had morphed into a willingness to participate in every drinking game if it meant spending time with Mickey.

“Ian!”

Jason’s shout sent Ian into a mild panic over how he was going to avoid his buddies. He looked left and right quickly, eyes scanning the small group of dancers and larger group of students standing around a line of beer kegs until he found his friend’s frantically waving hand.

“We’re getting our asses handed to us, man. Come on!” Jason added.

“Yeah,” Tommy came up beside Jason, forming prayer hands. “Everyone else is already too shitfaced.”

The two men were on one end of a ping pong table set up for a game of beer pong, triangular formations of red cups ready for play. The drunk girls who’d been fighting earlier were hanging around them, and a handful of Delta Upsilon assholes stood at the other end of the table. Apparently, they were slumming it tonight since their frat house had been recently shut down due to sexual assault charges.

And Mandy was draped over one of the guys. She rolled her lip at Ian when their eyes met clearly conveying her thoughts on Ian’s disappearing act.

“Shit,” Ian whispered.

“Yup, her panties are definitely in a knot,” Mickey chuckled.

Ian tipped his head at her, pleading with his eyes for forgiveness as he tried to convey his own thoughts without letting either Mickey or the rest of the crowd in on them. He didn’t want to out the guy.

“IAN!”

Jason’s demanding voice got his attention again, and he suddenly felt exhausted. Somehow his lone wolf status had shifted and he was now part of a pack, which included two trust fund frat boys that he trusted more than any other friends he’d ever had. However much he liked the two assholes, it didn’t change the fact that when you got involved with people, you could suddenly find yourself caught between conflicting needs. All he wanted was to be alone with the guy he just met, but his friends were demanding he perform and his crush’s sister was glaring at him like he was pond scum.

“You some kinda beer pong Yoda or somethin’?” Mickey asked.

Ian glanced at him. “I’m pretty good, but we gotta get your sister away from those creeps.”

Mandy turned away, her attention on the guy she was now feeling up. He was taller than Ian and built. His arm was tight around Mandy’s waist and he poured whatever was in his solo cup down her throat. When some of it dribbled over her lip, the guy brought his mouth down to hers, and Ian shot forward.

“Hey assholes, you ready to lose?” he challenged. “Time to clean the floor with you.”

Jase whooped and the guy with Mandy dropped her like she didn’t exist. Ian winced even though that had been his intention.

“House rules,” Ian said.

Jason slapped him on the back. “Yup, established. Two re-racks, team’s choice. You and me, man.”

Ian nodded then turned his attention to Mickey, hoping that he hadn’t destroyed any chance he had with the guy by acting like a total douche. Somehow Mickey had gotten a cup of something while Ian was distracted. He was chugging it, throat muscles moving as the liquid poured down. Holy shit, Ian thought, wondering if he was going to be able to concentrate on his patented arc shot with that image in his mind.

“You’re up,” Jason said, pushing Ian toward the table for a game of “eyes” to see which team goes first. Grabbing both balls, Ian rolled them between his fingers through the count of three. He lifted his hand, eyes locked on his opponent, and released the balls with a low arched line drive that sent a wave of beer splashing along the rim of the first cup when both ping pong balls hit their target.

“Yes,” he hissed, watching the dude’s balls roll over the edge of the table. “We’re up first.”

After cleaning the two ping pong balls in a cup of water, Jason took the first toss and Ian slid his eyes between Mickey's slightly amused face and his sister's scowl. Jason’s ball hit the number 1 cup, and Mandy’s guy had to down the cup of beer before Ian got his turn.

“Number 2,” Ian announced, deciding to pull out all his tricks. By calling his shot, the other team would have to drink an extra shot if he hit that specific cup. Of course, if he missed then he’d have to drink two cups.

Bracing his feet, he gripped the ball between his thumb and index finger, angling his wrist and releasing with a slight snap. The ball bounced off the table about a foot from the second cup then landed in his target, beer shooting out of the red solo cup onto the green surface of the table.

“Fuck yeah! That’s a bounce too, bitches,” Tommy yelled, giving their opponents a double bird. “Which means three cups. Drink up.”

Asshole and his buddy briefly discussed which cups they’d drink and whether they wanted to use one of their re-racks to arrange their cups to their advantage. Meanwhile Ian chanced another look at Mickey and was rewarded with an impressed look that sort of found its way into Ian’s ego.

The play continued like this for two more rounds with their opponents unable to make up for the lead Ian established, and Ian was happy to see that Mandy had lost interest in the frat boy when he got all bitchy about losing, complaining that the game was rigged.

Now that Mandy was out of harm's way, Ian decided to end the game quickly and show off a little in the process. Maybe it would make up for his less than stellar first impression while improving his chances of ending the night somewhere secluded with Mickey.

Ian grabbed Jason’s ball and his own, grasping one in each hand. He bent his knees slightly, eyes focused on the inside of the number 9 and 10 cups, the only remaining cups on that end of the table.

He released the balls simultaneously, snapping his wrists so the balls bounced once near Ian this time then sailed in a low arc toward their designated cups. At the last second, asshole tried to intercept them, but his drunken fingers weren’t quick enough.

Ian's interest was now on Mandy, who had made her way over to Mickey. The two of them were talking, both sets of hands gesticulating wildly while cheering erupted around him signalling the end of the game.

“Let's do a round of shots to celebrate,” Jase said and Tommy lined up a dozen shot glasses along the table, filling them to the rim with Sour Puss.

Keeping one eye on the arguing siblings, Ian accepted the shot glass, knocking it back because he knew saying no wasn’t an option. In fact, Tommy immediately shoved another one into his hand, and Ian decided that the slight buzz might be a good thing as he could feel his tongue loosening up already.

“I gotta take care of something,” he announced, attention fully on Mickey now. “Good game, guys.”

Whatever response he got was drowned out by the beer and raspberry liqueur flowing through his body and the man he was walking toward. Until he felt a tiny fist ram into his bicep.

“Asshole.”

He shifted his gaze to Mandy. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to...be a dick.”

“Whatever, guess I did say that getting laid is the best way to prepare for an exam.” Her face was clear of any real animosity, and Ian relaxed. “You can make it up to me by taking me out to dinner some time.”

He smiled warmly. “It’s a date.”

Of course, his eyes cut to Mickey when he said that, unsure what he expected to see on the man’s face.

“Am I interrupting you two lovebirds?” was the response he got from the man.

“Talk about lovebirds,” Mandy said, flicking her gaze between Mickey and Ian. She flipped them off as she walked away.

“Oh, hey, Mandy,” Ian called out. She turned slightly, eyes wide in exasperation. “Stay away from Delta boys, okay? They’re rep is seriously shit.”

She rolled her eyes but nodded. Ian smiled at her retreating back and the attitude she wore like armor before turning to Mickey, but the space beside him was empty. Sheer panic took hold until he spotted the dark head moving toward the guy who’d dumped Mandy. He was still loitering by the ping pong table even though Ian had kicked his ping pong ass. They spoke for less than a minute, but Ian could read Mickey’s body language easily and he figured Mandy would be safe for tonight.

Without looking at Ian, Mickey headed toward the back patio doors, disappearing into the darkness outside and leaving Ian to wonder if he should follow. The thought lasted less than a second though because the only thing that would stop Ian from pursuing this guy was a direct request from Mickey that he back off.

It was a surprisingly nice night for late November, but Ian still felt the chill immediately. Only a couple of people were out on the patio smoking, so Mickey was easy to spot. The red glow of his smoke and the heat coming from his eyes were like beacons for Ian, who walked slowly toward him. When he got close, he realized that it wasn’t tobacco that Mickey was smoking, and Ian accepted the offered joint. He inhaled deeply then passed it back while they watched each other.

“Why do I feel like I know you?” Ian asked, giving his arms a brisk rub to create some heat.

“Cause we met inside a half hour ago?”

Ian smiled, looking down at his sneakers. “You know what I mean.”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

Mickey shrugged, passing him the joint again. “Where you from?” he asked.

“Canaryville.”

“Thought you might be from around there.”

“Because I don’t fit in here?” He’d meant it in jest, but it still brought up all Ian’s insecurities and fears.

“Why would you wanna?” Mickey countered, eyes narrowing as smoke billowed around his face. “You sure know your way around a beer pong table, I’ll give you that.”

“Too bad they don’t give out beer pong scholarships.” The weed began to mingle with the alcohol and Ian forgot about the late fall chill.

“What’re ya studying?” Mickey reached his hand out again, bringing the roach close to Ian’s lips for a toke. He pressed his lips against Mickey’s fingertips, watching the other man’s lips purse slightly as Ian inhaled. Regrettably, Mickey dropped the roach to the cement and ground it out with his boot.

“Psych for now,” Ian exhaled. “Law, if I make it that long.”

“Sounds like a fucking nightmare.”

“Kinda is.”

“So why do it then? Must be easier shit that still pays good.”

“Suppose,” Ian mumbled, looking around the patio vaguely as he tried to avoid all the conversations that were a downer. “Child advocate lawyers aren’t actually paid that well.”

“Well, what the hell then?” Mickey prompted. “Why put yourself through all that?”

“I Googled jobs that had a lot of men in nice suits and lawyer popped up.”

Mickey smirked, eyes a little glassy. “You like a man in a suit, huh?”

“Don’t you?”

“I might be into that.” His tongue swiped over his bottom lip and Ian remembered the latest item on his bucket list.

“What do you usually look for in a guy?” Ian asked, almost enthralled as he waited for the answer.

“Short, blond, tanned,” he began, raising a finger with each new addition. “Terrible at beer pong.”

Ian laughed, a bark of real humor that sort of released a valve holding in all his tension. It felt so good that he stepped forward, closing the distance between them. He braced a palm against the stone side of the house a few inches from where Mickey’s head rested, feeling the hibernating ivy beneath his palm and leaned in just enough to detect the warmth radiating off of his body.

His gaze roamed Mickey’s face, taking in the slight downward tilt of his eyes and wondering how the scruff on his cheeks would feel against Ian’s fingertips, how the smoothness of his lips would feel against Ian’s, how the firmness of his body would--

“Why you wanna be a child-whatever-lawyer, man?”

The question threw Ian off a little since he’d already moved past chit chat to getting on the guy, but he appeared to be the only one.

“Sorta been the plan since I was fourteen,” he explained, looking softly at Mickey. It occurred to him that if Mickey was this interested in the answer then he must view Ian as more than a quick fuck. “My siblings entered the system because some judge decided my sister wasn’t fit to raise us. She’d been doing it since she was old enough to turn the fucking stove on, but by the time she proved she could do it, my so-called father lost the house we lived in during a goddamn poker game, so we spent a year separated.”

“So now you’re gonna save the world, huh?” Mickey’s eyes softened too, and his hand snaked up around the back of Ian’s neck. “ _Schmuck_.”

“Might as well try.”

“Good luck to ya,” Mickey whispered, applying just the slightest pressure to his palm but it was all the prompting Ian needed.

He angled his head before their lips met because he didn’t know how long the kiss would last or how many he was going to get, so this one was going to count.

The first thought he had once they made contact was how well they fit together, like kissing this guy was the reason he’d been given lips. He was going to resent any moments his lips spent doing anything else for the remainder of his life.

That thought caused his lips to turn up slightly in a smile since his whole body felt alive and free, but Mickey sunk his teeth into Ian’s top lip, reminding him that his job was to sweep this guy off his feet so thoroughly that he’d be lost without Ian.

His hand gripped Mickey’s waist, pulling him snuggly against Ian’s body while his tongue invaded the warmth of his mouth. He swirled it around once, coaxing Mickey’s tongue out to play, which it did immediately. Ian moaned quietly as his dick also came out to play, way too quickly considering their surroundings.

With more self-control that he’d ever thought possible, Ian kept his hips steady, knowing that Mickey could very likely already feel his erection but not wanting to pursue that angle during their first fucking kiss.

Mickey, however, didn’t have the same reservations and his hips slowly, slowly, slowly rolled once against Ian’s while his fingers dug almost painfully into the tendons along Ian’s neck causing the pressure in Ian’s lower belly to leap off the charts. His whole body pressed along Mickey’s, trapping him against the wall.

A high pitched laugh ricocheted off the stone patio and broke the spell they were under. Ian pulled back enough to allow them to breathe independently but he didn’t move away completely. While he could now cross one thing off his bucket list, he’d just added a hundred new items.

“Gonna need you to finish what you started,” Mickey whispered.

“My dorm is a couple blocks away,” Ian whispered back.

“Got a roommate?”

“He got suspended for cheating.”

“Good man.”

Ian smiled. “Ready?”

Mickey’s response was another slow roll of his hips.


	5. Chapter 5

_Wednesday, November 30th, 2015_

Mandy (12:36am): where the fuck r u 2 lovebirds????

Mandy (12:40am): r u making out somewhere mick?

Mandy (12:40am): gross

Mandy (1:04am): did u fuckin ditch me to bang???? guess i’ll find my way home alone 🖕

Mandy (1:05am): also ur a fucking asshole for stealing my date 🖕🖕

Sandy (1:18am): lol mandy called me 2 bitch about u scoring with more than weed 🍆 (are guys dicks really purple?😏)

Sandy (1:21am): omg so fuckin bored!

Sandy (1:22am): need to get outta the fuckin Milwaukee suburbs so maybe i can score too

Sandy (1:22am): or imma need to buy a jogging outfit and join the power walkers at the mall

Sandy (1:23am): this is not a joke! it’s a cry for help mick!

\--------

**Ian’s dorm, University of Chicago campus**

Ian's lips landed on Mickey's as soon as he got the door to his dorm unlocked, and he could finally let go of every single one of his hesitations. Leaning in, he grabbed the brunet by his ass, lifting him enough to carry him over to the single bed where he laid him down. Crawling over his body, Ian deepened the kiss and their hips started to buck instinctively, both hungry for more. Mickey's strong fingers found their way underneath Ian's shirt, caressing up and down his hot skin, leaving a trail of shivers behind.

"Get out of your shit," Mickey ordered without any heat but so much need in his rough edged voice that Ian didn't need to be told twice. Having the brunet completely naked under him had been on his mind since the moment he’d laid eyes on the gorgeous man.

Scrambling backwards he stood up and tore the fabric off his body, reaching for Mickey's pants and boxers, pulling them down in one quick movement, while watching tattooed fingers tug at his shirt then toss it off the bed and onto the untidy dorm room floor.

And fuck if that wasn't a sight for every future jerk off session Ian was going to have. Mickey laying on his bed, propped up on elbows, eyes blown with lust and teeth biting into rough kissed lips as he waited for Ian to make the next move. His smooth, jet black hair was tousled from Ian maneuvering him across the mattress and his chest was heaving, just like Ian’s own. But what really got to Ian was the sight of the thick, already hard dick that lay against his belly and stiffened further with every beat between them, a drop of moisture forming on its head. Ian desperately wanted to taste him, but if he started with that, no way he would be able to last.

For a moment they just stared at each other appreciating the view, their eyes trailed up and down, right to left until everything was savored for future memory and Ian couldn't wait any longer to get back on him.

He pulled out a condom and lube from his backpack and tossed them on the bed before he lowered his weight onto Mickey's burning skin and into welcoming arms that slung immediately around his neck. His hands ran over Ian’s scalp trying to get a grip on the short cropped hair.

Using one arm to prop himself up, Ian slid his hand into smooth silky hair to explore, while the other grabbed Mickey’s thigh, pulling it tight against his waist and kneading the firm muscle. His teeth grazed over the brunet's neck and he inhaled deeply. Fuck if Mickey's unique scent combined with the remains of cigarettes, beer and cheap soap didn't turn him on even more.

Basic need forced him to pull away enough that his thumb could brush over the tips of their fully hard dicks, slippery from their shared precome. It drew a moan out of both of their chests, a moan they absorbed with their mouths and turned to ragged breaths.

When one of Mickey's hands released Ian’s neck to wrap around them, Ian nearly flinched from sensitivity at the contact. The minute he’d met Mickey, the build up began, and Ian didn't know how much longer he could take the sexual tension. But he also didn’t want it to end any time this century, so he tried to slow his breathing and calm the ache in his groin.

But Mickey kept stroking and panting against his shoulder as they watched his hand move between their bodies. Ian pressed another passionate kiss to his lips, tightening his fingers roughly in dark hair until he heard a grunt. Their tongues melted into each other while their bodies rocked, and Ian gave up hope of impressing Mickey with his stamina. At this point, he’d settle for simply not embarrassing himself.

“Get in me,” Mickey demanded in a whisper, the tip of his nose nudging Ian's while his fingers paused and his blown pupils stared right into Ian's, taking his breath away. “Okay with that?”

“Yeah. Course I am." Ian stopped Mickey from guiding his pulsating cock closer to his entrance. Even though he wasn’t sure how he’d be able to wait any longer to be buried inside this man, he wanted to do it right. "Don’t wanna hurt you though.”

With an impatient groan, he released Ian’s dick. “Kinda want you in me now.”

“Real soon.”

Ian kissed his way down to Mickey’s pelvis, sucking a hickey into the soft flesh, overwhelmed by the thought of marking the man’s body everywhere.

Needing to still the unbearable want, he slid his hands under Mickey’s ass, lifting him to Ian’s waiting tongue. He licked at Mickey's hole, wanting to smile as it contracted immediately at the touch and a long groan escaped from that perfect mouth.

“Is this okay?” he asked and Mickey pressed a palm to the top of Ian’s head until Ian’s mouth made contact again.

Wanting to see how far he could push him, Ian lapped along his crack, slowing to circle each of his balls before trailing up the thick vein along his cock, and smiling into the heated skin when strong legs tightened around his shoulders. He reached the smooth head, abruptly stopping and starting again at the lowest point, determined to make this memorable.

He felt shuddering under his touch and hands grabbed at his short red locks to keep them grounded. The desperation turned Ian on even more. He added pressure on the second flat lick, while his fingers played with one hardened nipple and the wriggling underneath him got more urgent.

Before he could tease him further, something hard collided with Ian’s head and landed softly on the mattress beside him. Pulling away from Mickey’s cock, he found the bottle of lube laying there.

“Impatient, huh?”

Lifting his head from the mattress, so Ian could see the lust on his face, Mickey stared hard at him. “Yes.”

Savoring the infatuation that ripped through his body, he picked up the lube and squeezed a good amount onto his fingers, smearing the cool gel on Mickey's puckered hole. He wrapped the other hand around Mickey's cock and gave him three slow pumps, watching his face twitch and his eyes fill with desire that Ian _knew_ was for him, only him.

Without breaking eye contact, he opened his mouth and engulfed the head of Mickey's dick, trying to suck the drops of come out of the tip, while he slid the first digit into his body.

“Jesus Christ,” Mickey breathed, lifting his head from the mattress again to watch every lick and bob of Ian's head with eyes wide and teeth scraping his bottom lip. To Ian he looked breathtakingly sexy because he was getting a chance to see an uninhibited Mickey, and Ian wondered how slippery the slope was to loving him.

Channeling those feelings, he savored the salty sweetness in his mouth and the weight on his tongue as he guided his finger in and out, in and out, the movements easy from the lube and how loose Mickey had become. He knew he could get addicted to this. Just this. And it was only the beginning of what he had planned for tonight.

When he added the second finger to quicken the process, he swallowed Mickey down to the base and not only heard him punch out a shuddered cry, but also watched him squeeze his beautiful blue eyes closed.

Encouraged by all the reactions, Ian worked his mouth faster up and down his shaft, deep throating him every third turn to make the stretching of his two fingers more bearable. Mickey's eyes flew back open, his mouth forming an O, when Ian added the third and last digit. Knowing that not his fingers but his dick would soon be surrounded by Mickey's tight heat, Ian searched for Mickey's gaze, savoring the intensity of his reactions.

When Mickey's dick hit the back of his throat and Ian hummed around it, the vibrations caused him to buck his hips forward and the faint taste of cum flooded Ian’s mouth. Three more strokes and Mickey tugged at Ian's hair, voice coated in lust.

"I’m good, c' mon, Ian."

Feeling his stamina shrink with every moan from Mickey's lips, Ian regretfully ended the foreplay and scooted back up his body, slick fingers digging into the smoothness of Mickey’s thigh as his hot breath tickled his ear.

“Turn around,” Ian whispered, voice rough from having Mickey's cock shoved down his throat and earning him a beautiful smirk, anticipation written all over the other man's face. He licked his lips one more time before turning around and propping up on all fours.

If Ian thought the sight of a pleased Mickey from moments before threw him off, he wasn’t prepared for what seeing him on his elbows and knees ready in front of Ian would do to his stamina.

In a hurry now to get in that gorgeous ass, he tore into the condom packet and bottle of lube, ready for the tight hot walls to engulf him. When he slid in, he couldn’t take his eyes off the way their bodies connected. It was so much more than just sex to him, and he really didn’t understand why or what was happening, only recognizing that it was fucking important.

Mickey gasped, his flushed face in profile to Ian as he pulled out slowly, breathing with the sensations then sunk back in.

"Ah fuck,” he gasped again, teeth bruising his lower lip as he tried not to lose it to Ian’s thrusts. “Trying to impress me? Hittin' the spot right away."

"Something to remember me by," he chuckled breathily, drawing back until only his tip remained then slamming in again. And again. _God_ , did it feel good. Did _he_ feel good.

"Don't worry, I won’t fucking forget."

And with that, Ian started to fuck into him good and hard and counted down the seconds until he was sure to explode. 100, 99, 98...

He leaned forward, breath fanning Mickey's back, as he watched the other man's fists clench and unclench around the pillow beneath him and felt him push back against Ian, responding to every single thrust. The intensity around his cock, the familiar tingling in his gut, the tightening in his balls, all the warnings hit before he reached 80 and he held the pressure on Mickey's sweet spot, making him keen and hopefully making him feel half of what Ian was feeling.

After five seconds of stillness, Mickey's short pants came through parted lips, both of their chests heaving. "The fuck? I’m ready to fucking go."

"I need a minute."

Eyebrows raised high, he turned to look back at Ian. "You what?"

"I'm gonna explode if I don't take a break."

"Take a--are you fucking kidding me? Been ready to come since you shoved your tongue in my ass, so no, you’re not taking a break. Fuck you very much!"

With that Mickey started to move back and forth on his dick, sending warning shivers down Ian's spine as he watched his spine arch and his sweat slicked ass cheeks smacked against Ian’s hips. His toes curled into the mattress when he heard his name on Mickey’s lips. After the third time, his body throbbed in need and exhaustion.

“Oh fuck, Mickey. You feel so fucking good, I'm gonna come."

He started to buck his hips forward, fingers digging into his hips as he increased the pressure on Mickey's prostate with every thrust.

"Yeah, yeah, keep fucking doing that, c'mon."

Hearing Mickey was reaching the end as well, Ian's right hand disappeared from where it gripped his ass and wrapped around his hard, leaking dick, pumping it expertly, while he leaned forward to increase the force of this angle and lay soft kisses on that arched spine.

"God, _Ian_."

The tenderness in that one word felt like being trusted with the most precious gift in the world, almost as precious as being allowed into Mickey's body. Ian's eyes closed in pleasure, his throat dry with need, as his body released into the condom.

“Mickey,” he whispered, heavy breaths filling the quiet of his dorm room while he continued to thrust and pump the other man's cock jerkily through the spasms of his body. When Mickey finally convulsed around him, it felt like coming again. They crashed together onto the mattress, trapping Ian’s sticky hand below them. Then they lay exhausted and happy while their bodies calmed down.

“Fuck, that was good,“ Mickey panted, his cheek creased into a smile and Ian pressed a kiss to it before pulling out, carefully removing the condom and turning Mickey around by his hips. Staring directly into each other's eyes, a moment so pure and full of unspoken promises, Ian wondered if he was imagining it.

“It was," he whispered, placing his hands on either side of Mickey's face, pulling him forward to meet him in a kiss as full of emotion as it was of lust. Their lips fit easily together, like two pieces of a puzzle designed to be together.

Mickey responded instantly, his arms wrapping around Ian's waist, their tongues slipping into each other’s mouths, hearts beating way too fast, the two of them melting under each other’s touch until they fell asleep. _Together_.

*

If Ian thought he’d had the most intense orgasm earlier with Mickey, that was before being ridden by him at 3:26 in the fucking morning. He went off like a firework after a solid three minutes of Mickey rocking in his lap. And he had to hold out for those three minutes with all the strength left in his spent body.

The brunet just needed to slowly slide up and down his length and he was done, head pressed to the pillow as Mickey moaned freely, neck muscles tense from not holding anything back. This man was something else.

Ian had blown him in return since Mickey hadn't been there with him after those three minutes (tops). But it took only 45 seconds of Ian's mouth teasing and sucking his slit.

They'd both drifted off to sleep again, completely exhausted and covered in sweat and bodily fluids. But Ian never wanted to get clean of the smell and taste on him and his bed.

Ian had awoken to round three at 7:47, when his massive morning wood poked into Mickey's crack and he slid back into him from behind. So good. So warm and soft after a night of ~~making love~~ fucking. Mickey’s warmth embraced him, while their hips moved in sync like they'd done this a thousand times, like they knew the other’s body while still enjoying the excitement of something new and unexplored.

When they came together after a few minutes of the slowest, most intimate sex Ian had ever had, he pressed a palm to Mickey’s galloping heart to keep him tight against Ian’s chest, afraid to let go.

But a new day had arrived, one full of responsibilities that he wanted to postpone as long as possible, so he decided to only say his goodbye with a new date in sight. Or at least his number so Ian could set up their next date.

"You hungry?" he asked, pressed against him from behind, his slowly softening cock still inside.

"Starvin'," Mickey responded and turned his head to get better access to Ian's mouth, "you wore me out."

Certain he had the goofiest smile plastered on his freckly face, he pecked his lips while rolling his hips one more time into him for emphasis and savored his last moan, before whispering filthily into his mouth, "I could always eat you out again."

The brunet chuckled, his head resting against Ian's shoulder as he looked up at him from under his eyelashes. "One of us would still be starvin’."

“Yeah, I would because I could never get full of that meal.” Ian slapped his ass, indicating he was about to pull out. "Come on, let's get cleaned up. Urban Diner serves a mean breakfast."

Even as unappealing as it sounded for Ian to detach himself from Mickey, he slowly slipped out and pulled the condom off. He didn't throw it on the floor like the other two but got up and tossed them into the trash can next to his desk.

When he turned back around, Mickey was already in the tiny bathroom, splashing water over his face. Ian watched it all, watched him slip on his shirt and boxers, heart heavy. He wanted him back in this bed as soon as possible, preferably later today and definitely naked.

Everything he felt for this man seemed to crash over him as he wiped himself up, and he couldn't stop himself from wrapping his arms around a now fully dressed Mickey, who leaned in when Ian dipped his head to kiss him on the lips. Butterflies started to stir in his belly when Mickey reciprocated with as much interest, and they let themselves get carried away for a few more heartbeats, pressing their bodies together.

Of course Ian's dick responded to that and twitched against Mickey, that's when the smaller man let go abruptly. "Come on. Let's get out of here, pretty boy, otherwise I doubt I’m ever gonna get anything in my belly."

Ian could think of at least ten sassy comments to the _get something in his belly_ thing, but grinning he settled on, "You think I’m pretty, huh?"

"Yeah, but that face is only gonna get you so far. Still gotta pass your exam today if you’re gonna save the world."

When Mickey smiled at him, something awakened in Ian that he hadn’t realized was dormant until now.

*

**Urban Diner, Chicago**

Sitting across from Mickey in a little diner not far from his dorm, Ian felt the stirrings of panic begin again. The bright lights of the diner combined with a severe lack of alcohol, weed or dick was making him queasy because he seemed to be reliving the tied tongue from last night.

"You good?" Raised eyebrows stared at him over the edge of the menu, obviously alarmed at the sudden silence after the chatter that escaped Ian’s mouth on the walk to the diner.

"Yeah, yeah, just thinking about eggs," he mumbled, which drew the brows even higher and got him a cocky click of a tongue in return. "Oh, look, they got scrambled eggs!" he burst out, feeling his cheeks glowing red in embarrassment. "I like scrambled eggs."

The brunet chuckled, which Ian ranked as a good sign -- right? -- and laid his menu down, while laughing blue eyes watched Ian's face. Thankfully the waitress came to take their order and even though Ian would've preferably gone with Mickey's choice of banana chocolate chip pancakes, he decided on scrambled eggs, hash browns and bacon instead, so as not to look like a hopeless, lovesick puppy who wanted to eat what his crush was eating.

Mickey's knowing smirk confirmed that he could see right through Ian, though, which led to another embarrassing minute's silence. Get a fucking grip, Gallagher!

"So..." Solid beginning, he praised himself. "I've never seen you around the frat house before."

Mickey shrugged, leaning back in his seat. "Mandy wanted some weed and I figured I could make a killing if I stopped by."

"Have I mentioned that I really, really like your sister?" Ian smiled, happy about Mickey's sister craving some weed and his dick or he'd have never met his ~~soulmate~~ Mickey.

"Makes one of us," the brunet snorted, not realizing how hard Ian fell for him at that moment. He'd missed witty, shit talking conversations like this in his current life where people thought that showing off their money was entertaining. "You still get back to the South Side sometimes?"

"Uh, yeah. Five siblings, some still in school, so I need to help out a lot."

"Five, huh? Pretty sure I would've noticed six freckly gingers skipping around the neighborhood."

Ian chuckled. "We're not all gingers. Just me and my sister Debbie. Fiona and Lip are more--"

"Hold up, Lip? As in Lip fucking Gallagher?" Mickey cut him off, staring in disbelief. "You're one of Frank Gallagher's kids?"

"Guilty," he shrugged, hoping that his piece of shit dad won't ruin this for him just like everything else. "You know Frank and Lip?"

"Who doesn't know Frank? Guy annoys the shit out of everyone. I'm sure I’ve seen him passed out in every needle infested garden on the South Side at least once."

True that, Ian nodded his agreement.

"And your douchebag of a brother banged Mandy in middle school once then dumped her for some blonde bitch."

"Musta been Karen," he threw in, trying to piece together all the players in this drama.

"Whatever. Had to teach him a lesson, though."

Ian knitted his brows, thinking of all the times Lip came home with a bruised face, which wasn't a rarity. But then something crossed his mind. "Ah, I remember him saying 'Ian, man, cross the street if you ever see a Milkovich especially if you think you might wanna bang one of ‘em’. You’re a Milkovich."

Now it was Mickey's turn to nod his agreement. "Guilty," he mimicked Ian's words, before propping his elbows on the table and leaning forward. "You didn't take the asshole’s advice, huh?"

"Eh, what can I say? I love the risk."

Both started to grin at each other stupidly and Ian had to restrain himself from giving into the itching of his fingers and reach across the table to intertwine them with Mickey’s. Probably better as a second date thing.

"So how's your smartass brother doing? He in college with you?"

Ian's stomach turned from prickling to churning. "No. He, uh, dropped out."

"Huh. He always bragged about being a fucking genius. Couldn’t figure out how to read a map to escape our neighborhood?"

Usually Ian would try to ditch the topic because talking about Lip meant also talking about his biggest fears, plus he tried to protect his brother's reputation from everyone outside their family. It was actually none of their fucking business. But with Mickey it felt different. He knew that he could be completely honest without worrying about being labeled.

"He did," Ian shrugged, staring at letters on Mickey's knuckles as a reminder that they came from the same shitty corner of the world, "before the Gallagher genes fucked everything up."

When Mickey only stared, Ian drove the point home, "Alcoholic."

"Shit, man."

"Yeah, shit," he agreed, staring in the distance until the heavy feeling passed. "I mean, he's been clean for thirteen months now, working in a motorcycle shop, girlfriend, baby -- Freddie. He's really cute and Lip's doing great but I--"

"Banana pancakes and the scrambled egg special," the waitress cut him off and Ian was somehow thankful for the sudden interruption.

They leaned back in their seats and let the middle-aged woman set the plates in front of them. Another silence heavy with unspoken memories settled over them as they ate. It frightened Ian that Mickey might believe Ian could turn out as fucked up as Frank, when even Lip messed up royally. Before he could declare that he wasn't Frank's biological son, Mickey swallowed his mouth full of banana pancakes and spoke up.

"I’m no Joe College, but I do know some shit.” The look he gave Ian mesmerized him. “Maybe we don’t have to become our fathers -- even if all our fucking brothers decide to walk in their shoes. Look around, man. You're doing good. Real good."

With that he stuffed another fork full of the honey drenched pancake into his mouth and chewed without knowing that he’d just hit on Ian's greatest fear, that he’d end up like one of his parents. But making Ian believe otherwise seemed to be Mickey's gift.

Ian smiled around the rim of his coffee cup, he decided to save the stories about how he got out for their third date. “This morning, I feel like I’m doing fucking awesome.”

“Yeah, well, that’s what good fucking sex does.”

For the next few minutes, the smacking of food was the only sound in the air around them, while they shared some shy smiles and made a few heart eyes at each other from across the table. It gave him hope that maybe Mickey was as smitten as he was, which raised a ton of new butterflies in his belly -- and also enough bravery to start a little footsie under the table.

"So," he began, peering up at beautiful blue eyes while he kept his ankle pressed to Mickey's, "can I get your number?"

"What for?" Mickey asked with knitted brows and Ian's chest tightened. "You need some weed?"

"Uh." He had absolutely no idea how to respond to that, until Mickey chuckled.

"'m fucking with ya," he smiled, letting his foot trail along Ian's shank to soothe him. "You gonna be as annoying with texts as you are in person?"

"Oh, Mickey," he giggled like a lovesick fool, "if you thought this was annoying, you're gonna love me using the whole spectrum of emojis."

"You know you don't have my number yet, right?"

"Not yet, no."

"And you know you should make it actually appealing for me to give it to you, right?"

"Sure." He shrugged, biting into a strip of bacon and accepting Mickey's challenging look.

"So tell me, with the threat of emojis flooding my phone every second of every day, why should I give you my number?"

Ian pushed his empty plate away, laid his arms on the table and leaned forward, while bracing himself for the next step. "Because you like me and even though you'd never admit it, you'll find each and every one of the emojis endearing."

"You think me rolling my eyes means I find you endearing?" Mickey retorted, pressing into the padded back of the booth, crossed arms pressed to his chest.

"Yes! And there's an emoji for that." Ian waved a hand between them like a magician with a wand. “It’s called the eye roll emoji.”

“Clever name.” Mickey flipped him off.

"And one for that as well," he exulted, content over the smile Mickey tried to wipe off his face with a thumb. "Mickey Milkovich, I think this is the start of some great emoji-filled conversations."

Even though Mickey rolled his eyes with exaggeration, he eventually slid his phone across the table for Ian to type in his number then call himself in return.

When the waitress left the check onto the table, Mickey snagged it quickly, grabbing his coat as he slid out of the booth and ignored Ian’s protests. “Poor college student, right?”

They stood, shoulders pressed close, at the check-out counter near the exit as the waitress rang in their breakfast, and Ian hated that they were moments from saying goodbye. “I should get a little sleep before my exam.”

Mickey dropped a twenty on the counter, then added an extra ten when the tired waitress smiled at him, leaving Ian to wonder if Mickey could ever do anything to make Ian dislike him.

“Or you could study with me?” Ian smirked, holding open the door and letting his eyes drift down Mickey’s body as he passed through and into the early morning light.

“I would if you were studying to be a doctor.” He flicked his eyebrows at Ian.

“I’ll change my major right fucking now,” he laughed. “I got a volunteer shift after my exam too.”

As easily as the mood had shifted to light teasing, it shifted back to awkward. They stood on the sidewalk with their hands fisted deep inside their pockets.

"So," Ian mumbled. It was the third time he'd started a conversation with Mickey like that, but it always got him what he wanted, so it couldn't be that bad. Ian had absolutely no idea how to go on from here, since the things he wanted to say, he probably shouldn't let himself say quite yet. Mickey needed to jump in and take the lead.

"So," the brunet mimicked, "see ya ‘round, Romeo."

With that he turned and took a step away from Ian, who stood motionless in shock and panic. "Mickey!" he cried, completely upset that the other man would end the most amazing night with a random 'see ya'.

Mickey stopped abruptly and looked over his shoulder, questioning Ian with raised eyebrows. "Yeah?"

With two quick steps Ian was back in his face, their bodies so close that Ian felt heat radiating off Mickey and imagined he could hear the quiet _thud thud thud_ of a beating heart. He just didn't know which chest it came from. He peered down into teasing blue eyes and understood he wasn’t really going to walk away.

If he leaned down an inch, he'd feel those heavenly lips back on his. And even though he'd never felt such a strong pull towards another person, never craved something more than that kiss right now, he couldn't do it. He had absolutely no idea if Mickey was out, and despite the fact that the brunet didn't seem afraid last night, Ian also knew that Mickey was far from home and maybe feeling safe but not necessarily ready to kiss a man on a public street--even one away from their neighborhood.

So he allowed himself to simply admire him for one more minute, savoring the expressive face and memorizing each feature for the moments until he saw him again. "When am I gonna see you?" he asked, swallowing a gulp down his throat, while neither of them stepped back.

Smirking up at him softly, Mickey changed Ian's _thud thud thud_ into a racing gallop. "I thought we already settled that. You asking me out with every annoying emoji your long ass fingers can find, and me replying with the eye roll, middle finger combo."

Ian couldn't help the smile that tugged at the corner of his lips and the warm feeling that spread around his heart. "But you’re gonna say yes, right?" He just needed to hear it right now, coming from his lips.

A hand brushed his own and a finger trailed softly over his knuckles before Mickey let it rest next to Ian's and intertwined their pinky fingers. Blue eyes stared bright and openly into his until he dropped his gaze down to Mickey's mouth in time to see him tuck the bottom lip under his front teeth for the last time.

Ian summoned the remaining energy in his body to stop himself from falling over the other man right then and there, but as Mickey kept staring, Ian lost the battle. Entirely drawn in, he leaned down mesmerized until Mickey's words cut through his haze.

"I think you know the answer to that, Ian."

Squeezing Ian's finger one last time, the brunet let go, stepped back and Ian released a breath he didn't know he was holding. Grinning at each other like idiots, Ian was the first to bow his reddened face in embarrassment, before he raised one hand to wave goodbye. "So, guess I'll text you then. I have the perfect emoji in mind."

"I bet you do. It better not be a fucking eggplant, man. I expect better from you."

With a happy heart, Ian took two steps backwards, his eyes never leaving the other man's though and Mickey chuckled at his dorkiness, before ending the awkward moment for both of them by turning around and leaving Ian to watch him saunter down the street. The way his ass swayed just a little gave the impression that he was well aware of the attention. When Mickey reached the corner and paused, Ian grinned stupidly as their eyes met.

“See ya ‘round, Gallagher,” Mickey shouted then disappeared.

Even though he was gone, Ian couldn’t tear his eyes away. He took another step backwards and bumped into someone.

“Oh,” he said, turning toward the older man behind him and blinking in surprise at the hostility on his face. “Sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

“Be careful where you’re fucking going,” the man growled.

“I said sorry,” Ian mumbled, feeling a little unsure as to what he’d done to garner this amount of anger. The guy crossed the street without another comment, and Ian shook off the unease as he typed into his phone. His heartbeat quickened when his phone vibrated seconds later.

Ian (10:47am): 🥰

Mickey (10:47am): 🙄

\--------

Hopping on the south bound bus, Mickey couldn’t fight the damn smile that crossed his face at the idea that his phone was about to blow up with stupid emojis and that he was _not_ going to hate it.

His ass was a little tender and each twinge reminded him of how fucking amazing last night had been, and how fucking much he wanted Ian to do all those things to him again. The guy was a huge dork who couldn’t play hard to get if his life depended on it. Something about the open, honest way he looked at Mickey all night and the near desperation in his touch undid twenty years of fear, giving Mickey a glimpse of what his life could look like if he let this man in.

Ian (10:49am): 😂😍

Deciding to yank the guy’s chain a little because teasing him was going to be almost as much fun as fucking him, Mickey ignored the text and flipped over to the hundred messages he’d missed from his damn sister, noting her overuse of _his_ fucking emoji.

Mandy (12:36am): where the fuck r u 2 lovebirds????

Mandy (12:40am): r u making out somewhere?

Mandy (12:40am): gross

Mandy (1:04am): did u guys fuckin ditch me to bang???? guess i’ll find my way home alone 🖕🖕

Mandy (1:08am): ur a fucking asshole for stealing my date 🖕🖕

Mandy (7:26am): i hate u 🖕🖕

Mandy (7:26am): becoz of u i gotta do a fucking walk of shame

Mandy (7:26am): it’s a walk of shame becoz i didn’t get fucking lucky

Mandy (7:38am): on the bus heading home now, where i could still be sleeping the sleep of the innocent in my own fucking bed, if u guys would've taken me home b4 fucking behind my back

Mandy (7:41am): saw him first u dick 🖕🖕

Mandy (7:41am): shoulda called dibs!

Mandy (9:53am): feel better now after a shower and a nap. r u still with ian?

Mandy (9:58am): i’m not THAT mad anymore if him shoving his dick up ur ass means that ur less of a drama queen

Mandy (10:22am): u alive?

Mandy (10:48am): omg is ian a fucking serial killer????

Mandy (10:53am): it's always the pretty ones. either gay or psychopaths, i fucking swear

Mandy (10:56am): did he kill u???

Mandy (10:58am): fuck u can't answer that if your arms are chopped off

Mickey (11:00am): there’s only one psycho in my life and it ain’t ian

Mickey (11:00am): nearly fucking murdered my ass tho

Mandy (11:02am): well i was ready to swallow his load under the pool table so i’m not surprised

Mickey (11:02am): OMFG shut up!

Mandy (11:02am): still a drama queen, i see

Mickey (11:03am): his load was fuckin fantastic 🖕🖕


	6. Chapter 6

_Wednesday, November 30th, 2015_

Jase (11:00am): u drop off the face of the earth or something?

Ian (11:05am): sorry guys, got a shift at the inclusion center before my exam

Jase (11:06am): what happened last night? killed it at pong then vanished

Ian (11:06am): got lucky 😍

Jase (11:07am): YES MAN! 🏆 good for u

Tommy (11:08am): chase reyes finally wore u down huh??? 👀

Ian (11:08am): the fuck?!? no!

Tommy (11:08am): who then???

Jase (11:08am): YEAH WHO

Jase (11:09am): spill the deets, dude! 🍆🍑💦

Tommy (11:09am): 🍆🍑💦???? srsly? i don't think i want those details

Tommy (11:09am): no offense, ian 😉

Ian (11:11am): none taken cause I’m not telling u guys shit. I don’t know if he’s out yet plus he’s kinda special

Jase (11:11am): 🙄

Tommy (11:11am): 🙄🙄

Jase (11:12am): special, huh?

Ian (11:13am): yeah 😍❤️

Jase (11:13am): woah

Ian (11:48am): I did really make a great first impression, huh? 🍆

Mickey (11:48am): 🖕 fuck did i say about eggplants ian?

Ian (11:49am): it’s a substitute until u get the real thing

Mickey (11:50am): u suggesting i fuck a vegetable if i get desperate for your dick?

Ian (11:50am): I got mixed feelings about that lol

Ian (11:50am): but I swear on my aunt ginger’s grave that I'll make sure u r always as satisfied as u were last night 😉

Mickey (11:51am): cocky motherfucker

Ian (11:52am): u were satisfied though...right?

Ian (11:53am): 🤔

Ian (11:54am): 😬

Ian (11:54am): 🥺

Ian (11:55am): 😰

Mickey (11:56am): u did alright

Ian (11:56am): 😍😍😍😍😍

Mickey (11:58am): u really gonna use them all the time, man?

Ian (11:59am): yep 😊

Mickey (11:59am): 🙄

Ian (1:36pm): u more a pizza, chinese or burger type of guy? 🤔

Mickey (1:42pm): what's up with those little yellow fuckers? am i supposed to imagine u making a pose like that?

Ian (1:43pm): oh mickey 😊

Ian (1:43pm): they really bug u, huh?

Mickey (1:44pm): 🖕

Ian (1:44pm): so about the food 🤔

Mickey (1:45pm): ask me without the yellow dumbfucks

Ian (1:46pm): mickey, are u more a pizza, chinese or burger type of guy?

Mickey (1:47pm): pizza

Ian (1:47pm): 😊 was that so hard?

Mickey (1:48pm): 🖕🖕

Mickey (5:26pm): how was ur exam?

Ian (5:59pm): great 👍 I’m really fucking smart. some might even say brilliant

Mickey (6:01pm): i must have the wrong number

Ian (6:02pm): haha but I did have a hard time concentrating 🥰

Mickey (6:03pm): 🙄

Ian (6:03pm): 😁

Ian (7:19pm): vito & nick’s on saturday 7pm okay? 🙏

Ian (7:22pm): best pizza on SS

Mickey (7:26pm): 🙄🖕

Ian (7:27pm): that's my favorite 'yes' from u 😁

Ian (7:28pm): 📆📝🍕🍻👬

Ian (7:28pm): means, mark in your calendar ur going on a pizza date with ian 😍

Mickey (7:29pm): i don't have a calendar

Ian (7:29pm): 👨🏻‍🦰🙎🏻‍♂️

Ian (7:30pm): look, that’s me and grumpy mickey 😁

Ian (7:30pm): my new favorite emoji 🙎🏻‍♂️🙎🏻‍♂️ grumpy mickey emoji

Mickey (7:31pm):🖕 still my favorite one

Ian (7:31pm): 🥰🥰

Mickey (7:32pm): i flip u off and u do that hearty yellow dumbfuck thing. ur weird

Ian (7:33pm): 👨‍❤️‍💋‍👨

Mickey (7:34pm): r those gay emojis?

Ian (7:34pm): yep 😁 homo-jis

Mickey (7:35pm): i already regret giving u my number 🙄

Ian (7:36pm): no u don't 😁👨‍❤️‍💋‍👨

Mickey (7:36pm): 🖕

Ian (7:37pm): 🍆🍑

Mickey (7:38pm): i'm gonna delete u now

Ian (7:38pm): no u won't 👨‍❤️‍👨

Mickey (7:39pm): number officially deleted

Ian (7:40pm): u can't delete a number officially, then still text that person mick 😁

Ian (8:14pm): mickey? 🤔

Ian (9:26pm): r u ignoring me? ☹️

Ian (9:29pm): is it because of the emojis? 🤨

Ian (9:36pm): is it because of the emojis? (without emojis)

Ian (11:42pm): good night, mickey

Ian (12:11am): I miss your middle finger

Mickey (2:12am): 🖕

\--------

_Thursday, December 1st, 2015_

Ian (9:16am): good morning 👋

Mickey (9:22am): who dis?

Ian (9:23am): haha, u know exactly who I am 🙄

Mickey (9:25am): don't know this number

Ian (9:27am): u do realize we were chatting in the same thread as yesterday, right?

Mickey (9:28am): 🖕

Ian (9:28am): ah, there he is 😊

Ian (9:30am): did u ignore me on purpose just because of the eggplant emoji?

Mickey (9:30am): 👍

Ian (9:31am): 😲 that’s a new finger

Mickey (9:31am): 🖕

Mickey (9:31am): and it’s a fuckn thumb dumbass

Ian (9:34am): okay, fine, lesson learned. no more eggplant emoji for u (but plenty more of the real thing any time u want it)

Mickey (9:35am): we’ll see

Mickey (9:35am): and no more fuckn peach either

Ian (9:36am): but u do realize that your ass is round and juicy like that, right? 👅🍑

Ian (10:02am): mickey? 🤔

Ian (10:41am): that was a compliment

Ian (3:56pm): ugh, fine

Ian (6:23pm): how can u be so stubborn?

Ian (7:18pm): I'm going through withdrawals. come back to me 😢

Ian (9:33pm): at least give me the middle finger

Ian (11:04pm): gonna fall asleep thinking about u and u know what I'm gonna be thinking about

Ian (11:05pm): night mickey 😘

\--------

_Friday, December 2nd, 2015_

Ian (8:14am): new day, new chance?

Mickey (8:42am): don't fuck it up, firecrotch

Ian (8:44am): will do my best. no eggplant, no peach, no complimenting your ass, anything else?

Mickey (8:45am): no gay emojis

Ian (8:46am): but we're gay 🤔

Mickey (8:48am): ian...

Ian (8:52am): okay, okay 🙄

Ian (9:03am): how r u doing?

Mickey (9:05am): surprisingly u haven't fucked it up already. so good.

Ian (9:07am): does that mean that u missed me, even though u stubbornly refused to text me?

Mickey (9:09am): 🙄

Ian (9:10am): aaaand that's a YES 😁

Ian (9:10am): 🥰

Ian (9:11am): it's okay, I missed u too, mick 😘

Ian (4:22pm): looking forward to our date tomorrow 😍

Ian (4:22pm): home for the night to do laundry and get all spiffed up for u

Mickey (4:23pm): don’t expect the same man

Ian (4:25pm): can't wait to c u even if ur in rags 😍

Mickey (4:26pm): 🙄

Mickey (5:15pm): u too

Ian (5:16pm): 👨‍❤️‍💋‍👨

Ian (5:16pm): oh no

Ian (5:16pm): shit, I wasn't thinking

Ian (5:18pm): mick?

Ian (5:18pm): it was an accident

Ian (5:45pm): MICKEY

Ian (9:12pm): ugh 🙄

\--------

_Saturday, December 3rd, 2015_

Mickey (1:01am): u up gallagher?

Ian (1:03am): why? do u miss me? it's okay to feel lost without me

Mickey (1:03am): shut up and meet me in ur back alley

Ian (1:03am): what?

Ian (1:03am): now?

Ian (1:04am): mickey???

Ian (1:04am): OKAY!!!

Nearly toppling over as he stuffed his feet into an old pair of red sweatpants, Ian hopped quietly around his childhood bedroom. Even though nothing woke Liam from a deep sleep, not even Carl’s snoring apparently, he grabbed the first shirt he could find on his way to the bathroom. A dark green button up that would clash epically with his sweats, but he wasn’t wasting any time on fashion because Mickey was trigger happy and wouldn’t think twice about taking off without warning.

While he swished a capful of mouthwash, he patted at his wayward hair but gave up quickly in favor of getting his ass outside. He managed to get his arms into the shirt but ignored the buttons, deeming them a waste of precious time.

The house was silent as he slipped out the back door into the chilly night. Heart racing, he squinted through the darkness, spotting an older model, dark sedan tucked between the neighbor's garage and their old VW van. The lights were out and the engine cut, but Ian assumed it belonged to Mickey since he’d never seen it before.

When he got close enough, he pressed his nose to the tinted windows but discovered the front seat empty. Puzzled, he pulled back to search the alley for Mickey, low key worried now that Mickey was toying with him until the back window next to him slid down. He couldn’t keep the stupid smile off his face as he bent down to look through the open window, arm resting on the edge.

Mickey sat in the backseat, casually leaning against the door. His blue eyes shone with satisfaction and Ian grinned back at him. They stayed that way for several beats, observing each other for the first time in nearly a week. To Ian it felt like forever and he suspected maybe, since he'd shown up here tonight, it felt that way to Mickey as well.

"'Sup, Gallagher?"

Ian's eyes traveled down his body, over the denim jacket to the spread thighs then back up to his handsome face, longing to feel the 5 o’clock shadow under his palms.

"Looking for a date?" Ian asked.

"How much"--Mickey swiped his tongue over his bottom lip--"for a kiss?"

"Free," he breathed, tugging at the door handle, fingers clumsy from excitement and cold. He still had no idea what the hell Mickey was doing here, but that was an invitation he was not passing up.

“How you gonna pay for school if you’re giving it away for free?” he asked, watching Ian slide along the seat until he had Mickey crowded against the door.

“I’ll send you an invoice.”

Mickey’s lips tipped up and Ian's body responded with the need to touch him. Blue eyes never left Ian's, just softened when Ian's cold fingers grazed his cheek, trailing along the warm skin of his neck where he felt Mickey's pulse beating rapidly.

He kept them there as he leaned into the kiss, eyes closing, knowing that it would eventually be over but still wishing the moment could be endless. It was a desperate kind of kiss with absolutely no finesse, and when Mickey's palm pressed to Ian’s bare chest, it felt so good that they tried to get closer to each other, knees knocking together.

Ian was sure this taste of full lips was going to make it even harder to wait for their date. Even though it was only hours away, minutes were too long when you felt like an addict needing a fix.

The moment did end because they needed air, but they stayed close, heavy breath fogging up the window behind Mickey’s head. Ian dropped his hand to Mickey's thigh. Body warmth heating up the denim and Ian groaned, sensing with a heavy heart that this was a quick makeout session only.

"Is this a pit stop on your way somewhere?" he panted, feeling Mickey lower his hand from Ian’s chest to Ian’s hand where it gripped his thigh, inches from Mickey’s dick.

"Yeah. Got some shit in the truck that needs hidden asap."

"Fine," he whined, thumb digging into the inseam of Mickey’s jeans and fogging the window up even more. They stared at each other, wordless, until Ian started to slide closer toward the door.

“Nice outfit,” Mickey commented with a big grin on his face.

Looking down at himself, Ian grinned too. A smattering of chest hair peeked out of the open shirt and a light trail disappeared into the waistband of his red sweatpants. “I was in a hurry.”

“Worried I wouldn’t wait?”

“Hell ya.”

Ian groped blindly for the door handle, maintaining eye contact the whole time, even as he turned to swing his legs out of the car. Once standing, he bent down to get one final look, but Mickey looked so good, so fucking welcoming that Ian couldn’t resist. He leaned in, bracing one knee on the back seat and one arm along the top of the seat as he stretched toward him.

When their lips met, Mickey’s arms wrapped around Ian’s neck tightly. Surprised, Ian grabbed Mickey’s hip and tugged it forward, sliding him along the seat until he was under Ian. Releasing his grip on the seat, Ian let his weight press Mickey’s body into the backseat.

Their legs were partially hanging out the back door, and Mickey was precariously balanced on the edge of the seat, but he never released his hold on Ian’s neck. They were too busy kissing to worry about comfort, and Ian figured the biggest discomfort was going to be the hard-on he’d have when he returned to the house.

When Mickey’s arms loosened a little, Ian pulled away, eyes opening. "We're gonna continue this after I feed you pizza tonight."

He pecked lips one last time then awkwardly disengaged himself, pausing again at the door to look back. Releasing a loud puff of air, Ian wondered how anyone could be expected to have the strength to walk away from that much raw sex appeal on display.

"Night, Gallagher."

"Night, Mickey."

Mickey (2:17am): guess i missed u too

Ian (2:18am): 😍

Mickey (2:18am): y aren't u sleeping? big day for u tmrw. need ur beauty sleep

Ian (2:19am): well there's this guy I can't get outta my head

Mickey (2:19am): r u obsessed with him?

Ian (2:20am): maybe

Mickey (2:20am): how’s he feel about u?

Ian (2:20am): he likes me that's why he stopped by tonight

Ian (2:21am): he's gonna gimme the heart one day ❤️

Mickey (2:21am):🖕

Mickey (2:21am): that's what he's gonna give u

Ian (2:22am): I'll take it

Mickey (2:22am): oh yeah? well that's a surprise

Ian (2:22am): haha 🙄

Ian (2:22am): even though, I really would take it for u

Mickey (2:23am): that'd be a waste

Mickey (2:23am): 🍆

Ian (2:23am): 😱😱😱😱😱😱😱😱😱

Ian (2:24am): U DID NOT!!!!!

Ian (2:24am): omg MICKEY!!!!! U DID IT!!! 🥳🥳🥳

Ian (2:24am): u sent me a homo-ji 🥳🥳

Ian (2:24am): I'm kinda proud of how far u’ve come 😍

Mickey (2:25am): calm down mary poppins

Mickey (2:25am): it was just an eggplant, not a fuckin homo-ji

Mickey (2:25am): nothin to fuckin lose it over

Ian (2:26am): kinda felt like a life changing moment to me 😍

Ian (2:26am): so I'm allowed to go all peach, eggplant, water drops, licking tongue and two dudes in love on u?

Mickey (2:26am): sure, if u wanna end up in a fuckin pizza joint alone tmrw u can send me that shit 🖕

Ian (2:27am): 🙄

Ian (2:28am): so

Mickey (2:28am): so

Ian (2:28am): why r U awake?

Mickey (2:28am): can't sleep

Ian (2:29am): someone's on ur mind? 😏

Mickey (2:29am): that's not it

Mickey (2:29am): but yeah

Ian (2:30am): 😍😍😍

Ian (2:30am): gimme the heart, mickey ❤️

Mickey (2:30am): 🖕

Ian (2:30am): 🤣

Ian (2:31am): I'm having so much fun with u

Ian (2:31am): what's really keeping u up then?

Ian (2:34am): its ok, don't have to tell me if u don’t want to

Mickey (2:35am): my dad's in a mood

Mickey (2:35am): reminds me of all the fights with my mom. sometimes i hate livin in this house

Ian (2:35am): shit, I'm sorry mickey

Mickey (2:35am): yeah well i’m out back freezing my nuts off and getting lung cancer, don’t have to listen to his racist ass yapping at his buddies

Ian (2:36am): too bad I'm not there to keep you warm

Mickey (2:37am): wrap ur gorilla arms around me?

Ian (2:37am): I’M ON MY WAY!

Mickey (2:38am): dont ever come near this house man EVER

Ian (2:39am): okay

Ian (2:40am): so ur parents fighting kept u up all the time?

Mickey (2:40am): nah, slept blissfully thru that

Mickey (2:40am): my mom’s crying kept me up tho

Ian (2:40am): 😞

Mickey (2:41am): sometimes cuz he was being an asshole, other times cuz he needed a punching bag. had to stay awake to cover mandy’s ears, prob shoulda covered my own

Ian (2:41am): jesus fucking christ mickey 😭😭

Ian (2:42am): is ur mom still there?

Mickey (2:42am): no she got away

Ian (2:42am): she didn’t take u guys?

Mickey (2:42am): nah she took a handful of pills, never woke up

Mickey (2:43am): prob the only way a milkovich gets out

Ian (2:43am): 💔

Ian (2:44am): fucking parents

Mickey (2:45am): bet frank was a pleasure

Ian (2:46am): yup, him and monica like to party when they’re not busy ignoring us

Ian (2:46am): my sister fiona tried to shield us from it, cleaning up empties and coke residue while we brushed our teeth for school in the morning, shit like that

Mickey (2:47am): fuckin frank

Ian (2:48am): one time she wasn’t quick enough tho

Mickey (2:49am): and?

Ian (2:49am): lip and me didn't notice she wasn’t up and my 2 year old brother found a line of coke on the kitchen table, thought it was sugar for his cereal

Mickey (2:51am): the little black kid lip drags around with him?

Ian (2:52am): yeah liam

Mickey (2:52am): he okay?

Ian (2:52am): almost died before the EMTs got to him and now he’s got some delays

Ian (2:54am): I think that was the day lip became an alcoholic, even if it took a couple of years for it be official and fuck up his life

Ian (2:54am): he acts like our surrogate father and never forgave himself even tho it wasn't his fault

Mickey (2:55am): wasn’t urs either man

Ian (2:56am): yeah, I know. I do, just sucks

Mickey (2:56am): a fucked up neighborhood full of fucked up people

Mickey (2:57am): that suck as parents

Ian (2:58am): sounds like we’re both decent brothers tho

Mickey (2:58am): dealing with the fallout

Ian (2:59am): yeah, we got huge medical bills from all liam’s tests and shit, plus we ended up in group homes right after it happened. family needs to stick together not get ripped apart when we need each other the most

Mickey (3:00am): 💔

Ian (3:00am): yeah 💔

Mickey (3:01am): when ur a lawman u can change the fuckn system and help kids n shit. be a model fuckn citizen

Ian (3:02am): 🙈

Mickey (3:02am): fuck r u hiding from?

Ian (3:02am): I’m not even close to a model fucking citizen

Mickey (3:03am): got a secret life u need to fess up about?

Ian (3:03am): u teased me earlier about charging for that kiss...

Mickey (3:03am): so u’r really gonna charge me?

Mickey (3:04am): ok, it was worth it

Ian (3:04am): hell no u can have me for free any day of the week

Ian (3:04am): but…

Ian (3:04am): I do take my clothes off for money

Mickey (3:04am): well shit

Ian (3:05am): yeah

Mickey (3:05am): that all u got to say about it?

Ian (3:05am): fuck why am I telling u this? we haven’t even been on a date yet! do u promise to still show up if I tell u?

Mickey (3:06am): r u gonna be wearing clothes at the pizza joint?

Ian (3:06am): was planning on it

Ian (3:06am): planning to take them off pretty quickly after I eat tho

Mickey (3:07pm): u take 'em off for porn or something?

Ian (3:07am): sometimes for their ads, but not actual porn!! NEVER

Mickey (3:08am): i know what i’m gonna be doing for the rest of the night

Ian (3:08am): 😅 there’s a lot of porn sites out there, good luck finding me

Mickey (3:08am): i’m a patient man

Ian (3:09am): u’ll never find ian, gotta look for curtis

Mickey (3:09am): ur stage name is curtis? 🤣

Ian (3:10am): 🖕🖕 I do artistic stuff too

Mickey (3:10am): that’s what they call it now?

Ian (3:10am): haha! no really, I got started modeling for the university, nude poses for art classes and one of the other models told me about an agency he works for that gets him lots of jobs, sometimes it’s a little smutty but that’s it

Mickey (3:11am): i’ll be the judge of that

Ian (3:11am): u could check out the 2014 calendar called real men do yoga 🧘🏼‍♂️😅

Mickey (3:12am): for real?

Ian (3:12am): yeah in august curtis does a spectacular tree pose

Mickey (3:12am): how do i get my hands on that calendar?

Ian (3:12am): for spank bank material??? 🖐️

Mickey (3:13am): seeing u act like a tree is gonna be a boner killer

Ian (3:13am): even if I’m basically naked?

Mickey (3:13am): how naked exactly

Ian (3:13am): I’ll get u a copy...but I want a sexy pic of u in return

Mickey (3:14am): fuck u is what u get in return 🖕🖕

Ian (3:14am): I’ve never heard of that yoga pose 🥰🥰🥰

Mickey (3:15am): if you make a downward dog joke i’ll ghost ur ass so fast

Mickey (3:15am): anyway it’s one way to make money, school’s gotta be expensive

Ian (3:15am): crazy! hopefully one day I won’t be poor

Mickey (3:20am): u can be someone’s rich lawyer sugar daddy

Ian (3:21am): that idea is kinda growin on me now (winky emoji)

Mickey (3:21am): ok, big boy, go to bed and dream the american dream

Ian (3:22am): I'm pretty sure the american dream doesn't involve gay sugar daddies

Mickey (3:22am): yeah, cuz the american dream sucks ass!

Ian (3:22am): so do I 😏

Mickey (3:22am): 🙄

Ian (3:23am): come on mickey, that was a funny one!

Mickey (3:23am): nope

Mickey (3:24am): ur a dork

Ian (3:24am): I know, that's why u like me so much 😘

Ian (3:24am): gimme the heart ❤️

Mickey (3:24am): 🖕🖕

Ian (3:24am): 😂😂😂

Ian (3:26am): thank u

Mickey (3:26am): for what?

Ian (3:26am): u know, for not judgin me or my family for what I told u

Mickey (3:27am): same

Ian (3:29am): need some sleep or I’ll look like a goddamn zombie on our date tmrw

Mickey (3:29am): ur a pale ass motherfucker, u always look like a zombie, dude

Ian (3:29am): 🧟

Ian (3:30am): good night mickey 🥰

Mickey (3:30am): night

Mickey (3:48am): 🧡

Ian (7:59am): DATE NIGHT IS TONIGHT!!!!

Ian (10:04am): shall I pick u up, or do u wanna meet there? 😍

Mickey (10:52am): meet there

Ian (11:05am): okay 🤗

Mickey (11:06am): 👍

Ian (11:06am): 😎

Mickey (11:06am): 🙄

Mickey (11:07am): r u using them to annoy the shit out of me this early in the morning?

Ian (11:08am): I use them because I know ur smiling and I like ur smile (and it’s 11 am!)

Mickey (11:10am): ur annoying

Ian (11:11am): u mean endearing 🤗

Mickey (11:11am): i really don't

Ian (11:12am): u really do 😊

Mickey (11:12am): 🖕

Ian (11:13am): 🥰

Mickey (11:52am): maybe i do

Ian (11:53am): 😍😍😍😍😍

\--------

**Ian’s dorm, University of Chicago campus**

Looking at his reflection in the mirror above his dresser, Ian studied the dark gray long sleeve shirt. It was definitely tight enough to show off the fact he’d been visiting the campus gym almost daily the last week, but he still looked too...boy next door. If he was going to keep a South Side thug’s interest, then he needed to up his game.

He ran a hand through his hair, mussing it up just a little then tilting his head to make sure it gave off the impression he might have just rolled out of bed after a night of feverish sex. Maybe it would remind Mickey of when he actually had rolled out of bed that way. Next, he flicked open the first two buttons of his shirt, revealing enough chest to appear sexy but not desperate. Or at least that's what he hoped.

The craving to get Mickey in his bed had colored every thought that had passed through his mind since they’d met. He couldn't stop thinking about him on top of Ian, rocking in his lap and riding him into oblivion, or the feel of his mouth and hands on Ian’s body. Christ, he looked fucking debauched now, cheeks flushed, lips parted, eyes hungry.

Turning away from the mirror, he tried to focus on the fact that in two hours, six minutes and 26 seconds, he’d be engaging in witty conversation and teasing banter, while staring into bright blue eyes, imagining running his fingers through jet black hair and kissing soft, pillowy lips all night.

All these thoughts were fucking terrifying. Ian had never thought about someone so intensely while jerking off every time he was alone with his hand and the picture in his head of Mickey moving on top of him, nibbling at his bottom lip and staring with lust blown eyes down at him, moan after moan spilling from his mouth. Just thinking about that got him rock hard and leaking in seconds like a teenager exploring his sexuality for the first time.

Huffing a frustrated groan over how tight his gray twill pants had gotten, he fumbled desperately with his hair for the twentieth time in the past half hour, just to do something, anything, to control the raging hormones trying to take over his body, mind, and soul.

He’d feel pathetic if he wasn’t so focused on the thrumming heart about to pound out of his chest. Never had a date shaken him up so badly that he seriously doubted he was going to survive the next two hours, five minutes and 49 seconds.

Grabbing his phone off the bed, he contemplated sending Mickey a message, so he could at least make contact with the guy. That might take the edge off his horniness but seeing the screen full of middle finger emojis only got his blood pumping more. Somehow he’d become enamored over a bitch slappin’ thug with a bad attitude, and Ian couldn’t think of anything other than pleasing him. In bed and out.

Did he obsess over Ian like this? he wondered, searching their week-long texts for some evidence but unable to find the reassurance he sought despite sharing some pretty honest details of their lives. He’d told Mickey about his modeling jobs and he’d seemed to take it in stride, so maybe Ian would confess about the dancing tonight so there’d be no secrets between them.

Glancing at himself in the mirror again, his belly tightened. Christ, he might have to jack off before heading out or he’d get arrested for indecency, but he didn’t want to waste any of his stamina if Mickey wasn’t involved. As far as Ian was concerned, from this night until the end of time, every orgasm he had was going to belong to that man one way or another.

He flicked to the camera app, wondering if he should send a selfie to Mickey or if he might appear desperate because Mickey thought it was too soon to exchange pics. After all, he’d given Ian shit over the gay emoji business. Was a selfie too gay?

Or maybe he was also a bundle of repressed sexual need, not knowing what to do with the remaining time until they got together. Could Mickey be thinking about Ian right this minute? Could he be remembering how good they were together?

Fuck it. Ian bit the bullet and took the picture, staring down at his own cheesy smile. At first glance, it was just an innocent picture of his freckled face with a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips. The real him, a nervous man trying to pass the time until he could finally see his crush again and take him on a proper date.

But when he brought the screen closer to his face, he could see remnants of the lust he’d worn moments ago just from thinking about Mickey. It felt so intimate, and kind of scary, to send him a photo that put Ian’s need on display so clearly. Yet underneath it all was a confidence that the feelings were mutual. That he didn’t have to worry about rejection.

That for some bizarre reason, this man was as smitten as he was.

Messing around with a few filters of his phone, he still hesitated to send the photo, not wanting to push too hard. God knew, he was gonna push his luck plenty, but maybe there was a line somewhere that he shouldn’t cross and he knew recognizing that line had never been his strength.

So he hesitated, looking for something to distract himself. He was already fully dressed, his hair was as good as it was going to get, he’d applied his best cologne and the only person he wanted to talk to -- ever since that night -- was Mickey. He was also the only one with whom time always flew when they were talking.

Opening the app, he still hesitated to attach the picture to their conversation, knowing the guy probably wouldn't respond right away. But every now and then Mickey had a sweet moment and Ian's heart melted over a few simple words. Or an even simpler emoji.

Even without an ego boost from Mickey, he could still send the picture and hope for a witty exchange that would calm his nerves. Or he could just sit here and wait. Or he could do some more flirting via text.

Ian (4:44pm): u like anchovies on ur pizza?

Mickey (4:50pm): do u want me to cancel this date right fuckn now?

Ian (4:51pm): got it! what kinda beer u like? old style?

Mickey (4:51pm): who’s buying?

Ian (4:52pm): ME

Mickey (4:54pm): Steel reserve

Ian (4:54pm): sounds sexy, gonna try it too

Mickey (4:55pm): shouldn’t u be getting ready for ur date

Without thinking about it any longer, Ian attached the photo and pressed down on the little paper airplane.

Ian (4:59pm): sending photo

He watched the picture appear in their chat, while biting his bottom lip so hard he definitely left indentations in his skin.

When the dancing dots appeared, Ian's heart banged fiercely in his chest. It didn't help that the dots stopped and started over and over again until finally revealing a message.

Mickey (5:02pm): what is this?

Ian (5:02pm): my face... 🤨

Ian (5:03pm): hello, I'm ian gallagher and we met at a frat party four days ago and had insanely good sex 😏

Ian (5:03pm): oh and u like me A LOT 😏

Mickey (5:04pm): doubt it cuz ur jokes r lame

Ian (5:04pm): I wasn't joking 😏

Mickey (5:05pm): and y am i seeing ur face in a pic when i have to see it in two hours anyway?

Ian (5:05pm): when ur ALLOWED to see it in two hours u mean? 😁

Mickey (5:05pm): whateva

Ian (5:06pm): because the embarrassing truth is I've been ready foreva and had nothing to do to calm my nerves 😊

Mickey (5:06pm): ur ready? two hours b4 u gotta leave?

Ian (5:06pm): yep 😊

Mickey (5:07pm): and u have nothing to do but text the person ur gonna see in two hours?

Ian (5:07pm): nope 😊

Ian (5:07pm): plus u should know what ur getting tonight 😏 a sneak peek

Mickey (5:07pm): what i’m getting tonight ain’t in the picture

Ian (5:08pm): 😯

Ian (5:08pm): never thought u'd be a dick pic kinda guy, mickey 😏

Mickey (5:08pm): never said i was

Ian (5:08pm): I'm sorry I only do dick pics after the second date 🤷🏼‍♂️

Ian (5:09pm): for now, my face has to do

Mickey (5:09pm): the face i have to see in two hours

Ian (5:09pm): ur countdown sucks

Ian (5:09pm): it's 1 hour, 51 minutes and 13 seconds

Ian (5:09pm): 12

Ian (5:09pm): 11

Ian (5:09pm): 10

Ian (5:09pm): 9

Mickey (5:09pm): 🖕

Ian (5:10pm): I'm looking forward to seeing u 2, mickey 🤗

Mickey (5:10pm): go do yoga, sing fucking taylor swift, i don't care just stop texting me

Mickey (5:10pm): need to get ready 4 a hot date

Ian (5:11pm): oh, someone important? 😁

Mickey (5:11pm): 🙄

Ian (5:11pm): alrite mickey, I’ll let u get ready

Ian (5:11pm): c u in 1hour, 49minutes and 31 seconds

Ian (5:11pm): 30

Ian (5:11pm): 29

Ian (5:11pm): 28

Ian (5:11pm): 27

Mickey (5:11pm): incoming photo

Heart thudding like it would explode any second, Ian cursed the organ for not doing its goddamn job right. The blood rushing through his veins should be helping him breathe, but it wasn't doing shit. Apparently his body thought it was a far better idea to pump everything downward, filling his dick within seconds of seeing the photo on his screen demanding all his attention. After seeing the picture Mickey had just sent him, he was incapable of moving a single muscle, even his jaw conked out and was hanging open.

Staring at the hands-down sexiest pic Ian had ever seen, his body vibrated with a new wave of excitement because he would be seeing this guy in one hour and forty-five minutes. At some point tonight, he'd tuck his nose into Mickey's neck and breathe him in, while his hips moved rhythmically.

_Fuck._

That word escaped his mouth repeatedly as he admired Mickey flipping him off with one hand, while the other held the phone to take the selfie in front of a mirror that Ian guessed was in Mickey’s bathroom. The sink was scattered with personal items. An opened container of hair wax next to an orange bar of soap. A well used toothbrush standing in a glass together with the classic Crest mint toothpaste.

Ian’s brain functioned enough to absorb the little details in the background, but his main focus and the reason why he was likely going to have a heart attack was the smooth skin of Mickey’s naked chest. Ian remembered that skin. His hands remembered it. His lips remembered it. He touched two fingertips to the screen to enlarge the picture, then he scrolled down to the undone Levi’s that revealed dark blue briefs and just a hint of dark curls.

_FUCK!_

Realizing that he’d been gaping at the picture for four minutes straight, possibly without blinking, it occurred to him that Mickey, even if he would never admit it, was likely waiting for a reaction to his pic. Nobody ever in gay-texting-history sent a selfie like that and didn't expect a response. Especially not if you just sent it to the date you’re meeting soon.

The extent of his mental and physical impairment due to not only seeing this pic but also knowing it was sent to _him_ meant that Ian didn’t even consider sending an emoji as a response. Instead, he sent the only word that his mind was able to form coherently.

Ian (5:15pm): FUCK

He was so fucking turned on by Mickey's badass attitude, by the raised eyebrow that told a story of its own, and by the cigarette that dangled loosely between thick lips Ian wanted desperately to lick his tongue across. The offensive tattoos were clearly on display where he’d hooked a thumb into the band of his underwear.

All of this contrasted so endearingly with the softness of Mickey’s features and the way his blue eyes sparkled, capturing Ian’s whole heart and stealing his breath. This man was the epitome of sexiness and Ian had now crossed a line. He was going to make sure that Mickey Milkovich was his.

Ian (5:17pm): me

Mickey (5:19pm): that’s the plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: For the rest of the story, if there is something that might need a trigger warning, we’ll will put it in the end notes. The story doesn’t have any MAJOR triggers but there might be reference to events or very mild descriptions that you prefer to be prepared for.


End file.
